


Threadbare

by rosebudmoonseidr



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types, Thor (Movies)
Genre: Adventure & Romance, Aftermath of Torture, Angst, Brodinsons, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, F/M, Falling In Love, Frigga is a Good Mom, Gen, Healing, Hurt Loki (Marvel), Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Torture, Loyalty, M/M, Mental Healing, Odin Redemption, Odin is a King first and a father second, Odin is harsh and old school, Odin learns to put family first, Past Torture, Physical Healing, Physical hurt, Redemption, Relational Healing, Romance, Thor (Marvel) is a Good Bro, fixing Thor & Loki's relationship
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-31
Updated: 2020-07-13
Packaged: 2020-10-04 07:49:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 24
Words: 49,742
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20467553
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rosebudmoonseidr/pseuds/rosebudmoonseidr
Summary: Thor had not said a word to Loki in days. His first words, as they landed in the Observatory and he hauled Loki to his feet, were, “Let me help you.” Loki stared at him. Rage – unexplained, devastating rage – boiled inside him and without a thought he threw himself at his not-brother. Thor, completely unperturbed, caught him with strong arms. He realized, belatedly, his mind slow to catch up, that Thor had pressed his face into Loki’s neck. He wasn’t just restraining him, he was embracing him. Loki wanted to throw up.After New York, Thor brings Loki home, determined to see his brother restored.





	1. No Such Order

**Author's Note:**

> Loki and Thor are exceptionally dear to me, and I've been silently screaming about Infinity War and Endgame for ages! Finally, I decided to bleed my fragile fluttering fangirl heart onto paper. Virtual paper that is.  
This is my first fanfiction, so don't hate. I will probably update characters, tags, warnings and so on as I go along.  
I won't pretend to know where this is going. Somewhere full of adventure and character development I hope.

The Tesseract pitched them across the universe in a roaring wave. Loki did not dare lose his grip on it. He had been flung into the stars before and the agony of it still burned in his bones. They landed heavily, the roar of the glittering cosmos so loud in his ears, he didn’t realize he was on his hands and knees until Thor got arms underneath him and pulled him up, steadying him. Thor had made an annoying habit of scrutinizing Loki’s face since the Battle, as though he were unsure he had found and brought home the right Loki. And he had not said a word to Loki in days. His first words, as they landed in the Observatory and he hauled Loki to his feet, were, “Let me help you.”

Loki stared at him. Rage – unexplained, devastating rage – boiled inside him and without a thought he threw himself at his not-brother. Thor, completely unperturbed, caught him with strong arms. Loki writhed like a cat in his grasp. He was still gagged, so the angry words he tried to scream came out only as pitched grunts as his fury boiled over. Perhaps that’s all he’d ever wanted: for Thor to know just how furious he always made him. Thor did not speak again - simply thrust the Tesseract into Heimdall’s hands, holding Loki in a vice. Eventually, Loki tired. He didn’t have the strength he had before he careened into the tenebrous Void. The gloam had gotten into his bones and his soul and now he felt wasted. Not that his strength had ever been a match for the mighty Thor. He slumped. Thor did not move, simply held onto him. He realized, belatedly, his mind slow to catch up, that Thor had pressed his face into Loki’s neck. He wasn’t just restraining him, he was embracing him. Loki wanted to throw up.

“The Einherjar are on their way.” Heimdall’s husky voice was soft behind them. Thor released Loki, hesitatingly, scrutinizing his face again in that infuriating way.  
Heimdall turned to face them. “The King’s orders are that he is to be taken to the dungeons to await trial.”  
Thor met Heimdall’s eyes and said nothing. Before Loki knew it, Thor had pulled him firmly against his side, one heavy arm braced around his middle. Loki winced, sure his ribs had been broken by the Hulk, but Thor did not notice. He swung Mjolnir, and, suddenly, with a great gust, they were hurtling through the air again. It was frigid, and, for a moment, Loki felt some sort of relief. The lights of the golden city below them flickered by, bouncing off the rainbow bridge. Far down below, those golden lights bathed homes in warmth. Loki thought of Frigga and couldn’t breathe. He did not know if he could bear to see her. Perhaps he would not be allowed to. He did not know which was worse. They came to an abrupt landing and it knocked the wind out of Loki. A flare of agonizing pain ripped through his midsection, leaving him breathless, and the pained grunt was out before he could stop it. Thor looked at him in concern.

“Are you hurt?”

_Am I hurt?_ Loki wanted to impale his not-brother. _You imbecile! You watched that thrice-cursed troll throw me around like a rag doll – am I hurt?!_

Thor unclipped the gag. He dropped it to the floor and searched Loki’s face.

“You haven’t brought me to the dungeons,” Loki said, turning away from Thor’s gaze. It came out as more of a gasp.

“No.”

They were in Thor’s chambers. Red was everywhere. And gold. It was all so achingly familiar and part of Loki wanted to throw himself off the balcony and be gone from this place. But another part ached and ached as he looked around the chambers with wide eyes. He only realized he was sinking to the floor when Thor’s arms came around him and eased him into a chair.

“Loki, what happened to you?”

The question seemed to come from nowhere and Loki was so completely unprepared. He stared at Thor, mouth falling slack in shock. He found that his throat had closed up. He swallowed convulsively. Thor watched him closely and it made him want to crawl into a dark hole and burrow away forever. He was not used to this quiet contemplative Thor. When had his – not my brother – become so steady and inquiring?

“Wh-what is to be done with me?” He felt horribly ashamed at his weakness. He was a shell, stammering as his golden brother – _not my brother!_ – towered over him. Thor, as though he’d read Loki’s thoughts, knelt in front of him, a hand on either side of the chair. Loki felt five years old again.

“You were ordered to take me to the dungeons, Thor,” he rasped.

“The King gave me no such order.” Thor replied dismissively.

Loki didn’t know how to gain control here. He had once been able to talk his way out of anything.

_Not with him._

He’d once known exactly how to get what he wanted from Thor. But now he could barely put a sentence together. He was so tired.

A noise echoed on the stairs. The sounds of clinking metal and heavy footfalls. Thor’s head snapped around to the door and he stood, calling Mjolnir to him. There came a loud knock. He waited, turning his gaze back on Loki and Loki saw something strange there he couldn’t place.

“Your Highness, the General awaits you in the hall. The King commands the prisoner be taken to the dungeons to await trial.” One of the Einherjar.

“The King gave me no such command.” Thor replied, voice strong and full of his usual hot tempered authority.

There was a scuffling and suddenly the door swung open. Tyr stood, face like stone, on the threshold. “I’ll take the prisoner from here, your Highness.”

“No, you will not,” Thor said, voice rising, “He is in my charge.”

Something flashed across Tyr’s face. “All prisoners fall under my authority, Prince Thor. I will say it only once more, I will take him from here.”

Thor moved, putting himself between Loki and the Einherjar. “You may try, but you will not succeed.”

“Thor,” Loki said hoarsely. Thor turned to look at him. Loki could smell rain. In the distance, thunder rumbled. Loki wanted to tell him it was pointless keeping him here. If Odin willed it, Loki would be thrown in the dungeons no matter what anyone said. But Thor’s mouth was pressed into a hard line, his knuckles were white around Mjolnir and he had such a fierce look in his eyes that Loki found he could not speak again.

Tyr gestured and two Einherjar stepped reluctantly forward.

“I will not turn him over to you. You will leave at once.” Wind whipped through the open doors as Thor remained unmoving, a crackling barrier between Loki and justice.

“You disobey a direct command of the King?” Tyr growled, eyes glinting. “You bring that _traitor_ to your bedchamber like an injured lamb -”

Thor snapped.

“HE IS MY BROTHER!”

Lightening crackled around the room. Loki was shocked at the familial claim but he was not shocked by the thunder, a deafening crack this time, or the lightening bouncing off the walls. He did flinch a little. But this was the Thor Loki knew. Wild and angry and stubborn. Several of the Eihnerjar fell back from the door. Tyr’s face contorted.

“I will deal with my father,” Thor boomed. “Loki is to be seen by the healers -” he raised Mjolnir threatingly as Tyr opened his mouth - “I will not hear another word, Tyr, or by the Norns I will throw you from this balcony. Loki is my brother, he is injured, and he will see a healer as is custom with any prisoner.”

Tyr faltered. Thor seethed. The tenuous grip Thor had on his temper showed in the thunder clapping outside. Loki met Tyr’s eyes for a second before the General stormed from the room. Thor threw the doors closed and stood, forehead pressed to them, breathing heavily. The buzz in the air began to fade after long moments and his shoulders sagged. He dropped Mjolnir and turned to Loki.

“I’m going to fetch a healer, and to speak with Father. I don’t know what is to be done with you. You must answer for your crimes, brother.” He eyed Mjolnir on the ground. “If I leave you unbound, will you be here when I return?”

Loki made no move to answer. He didn’t think he could get up from this chair, let alone escape. And to where? He realized desolately that there was nowhere else. Whatever Odin might do to him, it would be better than what awaited him out there. He shrugged. Incredibly, it seemed to be enough for Thor. He left the room and Loki felt utterly alone. He was bone tired, his body ached, and being here, back where he never thought he’d be again, was almost too much for his already frayed mind to manage. His eyes fell to the massive bed in the middle of the room. A great swath of crimson sheets and woolen blankets were draped across it. Loki found he could get up, though he swayed. His hands were bound so he caught himself clumsily on the arm of the chair. He plodded to the bed and sank down onto it. He could smell the greystorm, and ozone, and the sunny fields above Pejnor.

He closed his eyes and as his head sank into the pillows he thought maybe he was only dreaming.


	2. Eitr Hol

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He awoke with a shock. Somehow, the bed had turned to stone. He had been dreaming. How much of it had he dreamed? Had he been on Midgard at all? He lifted his cheek from the cold floor and saw the armored boots of a dozen Einherjar. With difficulty, he pushed himself upright, raising his head to see Tyr standing once more in the doorway, looking disgusted. Not a dream then. He was still in Thor’s chambers, but Thor was nowhere to be seen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I went and wrote the next three chapters and then realized I'd written them all in past tense, but the first chapter in present. *Smacks face.* My bad. So I've changed the first chapter to past tense to match, it's literally identical story-wise. This chapter's a little heavy and includes some triggering things like torture and violence towards the end. I wouldn't say its graphically depicted, but its a little rough. *Hides behind hands* I'm so sorry! It'll get better for Loki soon!

Loki awoke with a shock. Somehow, the bed had turned to stone. He had been dreaming. How much of it had he dreamed? Had he been on Midgard at all? His thoughts felt disjointed. He lifted his cheek from the cold floor and saw a dozen armored boots. With difficulty, he pushed himself upright, raising his head to see a group of Einherjar towering over him, and Tyr standing once more in the doorway, looking disgusted. Not a dream then. He was still in Thor’s chambers, but Thor was nowhere to be seen.

“Get up,” Tyr barked.

Loki barely had time to register the command before he was dragged roughly to his feet and shoved out into the hall.

“Where - “

His head snapped back as someone clamped something metal over his mouth. They had found the gag, then. It bit into his cheeks and he felt something warm trickle down his chin. Fury stabbed at his chest. This was how Asgard liked their Jotnar – chained, subjugated.

_So did you._

Gauntleted hands clamped round his arms and shoulders and forced him forward. They marched him down the marble stairs, and out into the great hall. There was no one about. He stumbled. The guards behind him shoved him. The one to his right alone tried to brace him. He was taken down a narrow side hall, past the great reception chambers, the feasting halls and the three floors of residential chambers where palace courtiers, visiting dignitaries and the upper tiers of Asgardian society lived. They finally reached the governing chambers – Odin’s war room, the Seidrmaster’s office, and the great Courtroom. Loki wondered suddenly if they were taking him straight to trial, but the looming carved doors gave way to an empty court. It was a vast chamber with towering pillars running along each side. Enormous depictions of kings meting out judgment and balancing great scales were sculpted into the white walls. Great west facing windows gave view to the setting sun each day. Sentencings happened traditionally at last light, when the whole courtroom would be bathed blood red - fitting for those whose crimes merited execution. But now the windows looked out onto inky black night. Loki could not see the stars.

The clinking of the Einherjar’s armour and the clank of chains against the marble floor echoed loudly as they led him across the room and down the stairs at the back of the chamber. Twice again he stumbled, and twice the guards behind him shoved him forward. The second time he slipped and would have barreled straight into the two guards in front of him had the soldier to his right not slung an arm forward to catch him. Loki glanced up at him and realized they were of a similar age. He thought he recognized him from the training grounds. The soldier did not meet his eyes.

Two great iron doors stood at the bottom of the stairs. One led to the dungeons, the other out to the execution floor – a large outdoor amphitheater where witnesses gathered to see justice done. With a stab of panic, Loki wondered suddenly if there was to be no trial - if Tyr had brought him here for a summary execution. But it was the door to the dungeons that swung open and Loki felt ashamed of the relief that flooded him. He had not been so afraid to die a few weeks ago. It was as though coming home - _not home, this could never be home again_ \- made him small and afraid again, the weak deformed thing he was. The stairs that led down to the dungeons were steep and rough-hewn. Loki only just managed to keep his footing. They seemed to descend for an eternity, lanterns flickering as they passed, pressed close against the stone walls. They came out, finally, onto a great platform. A staircase to the left led to the dungeons, but they marched across the platform, stopping in front of a heavy stone door with strange carvings in it. Tyr pulled a knife from his belt and pierced his thumb, smearing blood on a smooth rectangular stone on the left of the door. Loki realized as the doors swung open that the carvings were of great fanged snakes. They stood at the top of a black stone staircase even steeper than the last. Loki swallowed, tried to catch the eye of the soldier to his right, hoping for some indication of where they were taking him. The soldier met his eyes for only a moment, communicating nothing. They marched him down into darkness. The stairs spiraled for what seemed an age. The air grew thick and dank. Finally, the gloam lifted as they came down the last few jagged stairs and passed through an archway that opened into an eerily lit cavern.

Suddenly, with a shock, Loki realized where he was. Macabre images of men twisting in pain beneath the dripping fangs of a great serpent reared in Loki's memory. What he'd learned of Eitr Hol in his long hours at the library had been concerning, but he had thought Asgard's old torture chambers long forgotten and disused. With a jolt that stole the breath from his lungs Loki realized that he was probably the first person to be brought down here in millennia. Odin's shame ran so deep that even a swift execution would not suffice. He had reserved the poisonous belly of the earth for his second son. He had been raised a viper in the nest, and now he would meet his end at the dripping fangs of one. Shaking, he shuffled forward as the guards led him out. They did not seem to be afraid. There was no great serpent in sight. Loki wondered how far into the darkness the cave extended and if it was simply waiting for its meal to be offered to it. The great jagged walls of the cave stretched up to a dripping black ceiling. He could not tell how high it was. In what he could only assume was the center of the cave, a great stone stood about twice his height. Two rusted iron rings were fastened to it and it was to these each of Loki’s hands were shackled. They shoved him against the stone, facing it, and he thought wildly that this was the same rock he'd seen in all his library book illustrations, where countless traitors and criminals had died in agony. The height of the iron rings meant he could not sink to the ground. He did not know how long he could stand. It didn't matter. He looked up towards the black ceiling, expecting glittering scales and shining serpentine eyes to emerge from the gloom. The water dripping onto his face began to sting, or did he imagine it? He craned his neck to try to look at Tyr, his heart thumping painfully against his ribs. The guards stepped back and out of his sight. He tried to twist around but before he could so much as shift there was an ear splitting crack and white hot pain seared across his back. It blinded him. The gag rendered his cries almost mute against the crack of the whip. Twice. Three times. The shackles tore into his wrists as his knees buckled and he groaned against the gag. He tried to register what was happening. Perhaps they were trying to get the serpent's attention. Six times. Eight times. He tried to focus on the number. Nine times. He tried to focus only on counting the strokes, but every time the whip landed his vision turned white.

“Enough,” said Tyr. Loki wanted to weep in relief. 

“General -” It was the voice of the youngest soldier. “Might his chains be lengthened? His wrists will break if he is left to hang against the rock in this way. It is not perm-”

“I know what is and is not permitted,” growled Tyr in irritation. “Yes. Lengthen them.”

The young guard came up behind Loki and, taking care not to cause him more pain, lengthened his chains. He slid to the floor in a heap. He tried to raise his head to catch the young soldier’s eye, to thank him somehow, but his vision was all blurry. He realized with piercing shame that he was crying.

“You are to remain here until your trial,” Tyr said flatly.

Loki was rather relieved to hear there would be a trial after all. Though there was no question of the outcome. The guards filed out and Tyr after them, leaving Loki alone and trembling. The water glistening in small puddles around him was tinged red.

_It was worse, _he tried to comfort himself. _With him, it was worse. _

He swallowed hard, vision still blurring. _Weak. Cowering and weeping like a maiden. _

He had always been given to tears. With trembling limbs he hauled himself closer to the rock, leaning gingerly on his side. The gag still cut into his cheek, and pressed against the rock now it cut into his ear. But he was starting to feel cold, so cold that a pleasant numbness began spreading throughout his body. He closed his eyes to the eerie light of the cave and thought of Thor. He had gone to get a healer. To talk to Odin. He had not returned.

_He will not come for you._

Had Odin made him see sense? Perhaps Thor had remembered that Loki was not his brother, after all. He was one of the monsters Thor had grown up destined to defeat.

_The Prince must slay the beast. _

Loki shook his head as though to shake the desolate thoughts from his mind. The grief ate him up and he gave himself over to weeping, knowing he was weak and that this was no more than he deserved.

Far above the bleak black cave, a storm was raging.


	3. Of War and Conquest

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A brief jump back in time, to when Odin and Frigga receive news of Loki's invasion of Midgard, and his alliance with the Chitauri. They argue.

Odin had read the same two sentences nine times before he set the letter down and gave it up as a bad job. It was an invitation to a council in Vanaheim for something. His mind was elsewhere. News of Loki’s appearance on Midgard and his theft of the Tesseract had come in the middle of the night from Heimdall just a few days prior and the hope and heartbreak on Frigga’s face had been painful to see. Odin’s heart had sunk to the pit of his stomach. Grief and guilt had roiled in his chest. He got up from his desk and walked out of his private study into the bright chambers he shared with Frigga. Loki's face was ever in his mind. Loki, as he hung from Gungnir, the yawning abyss beneath him, and Odin's cosmic failure above him. He’d sent Thor to bring him home. He told himself it was because Loki was in direct defiance of the throne of Asgard and the situation did not merit parental coddling. His heart twisted up as he thought of it.

As though his sombre thoughts were a summoning, Heimdall arrived with Frigga in his wake, and his report on the Chitauri invasion left Odin cold with fury.

“What of Thor?" Odin asked wearily. "Does he have the situation in hand?”

“He fights alongside Earth’s Mightiest Heroes,” replied Heimdall. “I will send for you, should the battle go ill.”

Odin nodded and dismissed the Gatekeeper. He paced the room, temper bubbling.

“All of this – over petty childhood jealousies!” he muttered angrily, pulling the stopper from a flask of wine and tossing it across the room. He didn’t bother with a goblet.

“Over a throne,” corrected Frigga quietly from the window. She had been standing, gazing out in silence throughout Heimdall’s report.

“A cursed prize,” spat Odin. “If he only knew it!” He gulped from the flask.

Frigga tutted. “We raised them both to be kings, Odin. Is it so surprising that they _both_ want nothing more than to be like their Father?”

Odin glared at her, stung. “Loki does not want to be like his Father, he wants to be powerful. He wants great songs to be sung about his mighty deeds while maidens swoon in the courts for him!”

“That doesn’t sound like Loki and you know it,” Frigga said, turning back to the window.

Odin snorted. “He is trying to conquer earth as we speak, my dear. War and conquest at its best.”

She rounded on him.

“Did he not grow up watching you go out to war? Odin, _he was born __into__ your war and conquest!_”

He stared at her. She shook her head and crossed the room, retrieving a goblet and setting it in front of him.

Odin set his bottle down. “I did not raise him to conquer the Nine after I had already done it.” He glared at he goblet.

“Oh?” snapped Frigga, “And what of Thor? You think Thor needed to be _told_ to go roaring off to Jotunheim to dispatch the Frost Giants? When he’d read nothing else but your great victories against them all his childhood? And all the while his brother – right by his side reading the same old _grot_ – was one of them. No, Odin, you did not raise your _sons _to conquer the Nine, but you raised them to believe it was their _right _should they ever wish it, no matter the destruction they left behind!”

There was a crash as Odin threw his wine flask at the wall behind him, growling.

“I raised them to be _kings!_ I built all _this _so that they wouldn’t _have _to go out conquering! I vanquished our enemies _for them, for you!” _he shouted. “And now Loki has joined with them, against his home, _against us!_ Frigga, this is treason!”

“No more than it was treason for Thor to go to Jotunheim!” she said shrilly. “We do not know what happened to Loki after he fell, Odin! Would that you had just pulled him up!”

Odin’s face darkened. “You blame me, then?”

Frigga scrunched the paper she had been writing on and shook her head.

“You blame me for Loki’s choices, then."

“I do not blame you for Loki’s invasion of Midgard,” Frigga said in a curt voice. “I blame you for letting him get so desperate as to think that was his _only_ choice.”

She threw the crumpled paper to the floor and swept from the room. Odin stared after her, throat working, seething. He snatched another flask of wine from the table and drained it.


	4. A King First

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The staff slammed into the stone floor and Thor fell to his knees, winded and grasping at his abdomen, shock written all over his face. Frigga’s jaw fell.   
“What have you done?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In which Odin tries to be a King and a Dad and fails dismally. There's a lot of angst here, I apologize in advance!   
But we get to meet someone new, so there's that!

Tyr strode into Odin’s private study, barely knocking, apoplectic, and spitting about Thor.

“He blatantly defies your orders! Threatens the General of the King’s Army! If he were one of my men he’d be drawn and quartered!”

Odin sighed as Tyr raged on and noted the wind that was beginning to howl outside. Their altercation had clearly left Thor in a sour mood. It had ever been this way. Tyr and Thor had never seen eye to eye, not from his first days on the training grounds. And Loki. Well, that had been another misadventure altogether. He’d never lived up to Tyr’s expectations in training and Tyr had been subject to many a foul prank. Odin thought it was rather unsurprising that they were here, hundreds of years later, fighting and raging at each other under far graver circumstances.

_Norns_. All his years governing the Nine Realms and he could not govern his confounded sons.

“He’s got him holed up in his chambers, insisting on a healer!” Tyr was raging, “If I might speak plainly -” Odin’s attention snagged on Tyr’s hesitant tone and he raised an eyebrow, but Tyr ploughed on bravely: “Your lenience with Thor in the past, I fear, has made him feel above the law. I would not say it if it did not pose a danger to the realm, but my liege – the example -"

Odin raised a hand and Tyr came to a halt. Frigga was hovering outside, listening to the whole thing, he knew it. She’d begged him to go to Loki the moment Thor arrived, but it was not custom for the King to escort captives and lawbreakers, and he would not change that simply because he also called Loki his son.

“Summon Thor,” he said wearily. “I will deal with him.”

Tyr gestured to one of his messengers who ran from the study in search of the Prince. But Thor had apparently been on his way to his father’s chambers already, because moments later he strode into the study, fists clenches and a black look on his face.

“I would have words with you about Loki,” he said at once, shooting a livid glare at Tyr. Outside, thunder boomed across the sky.

“And I would have words with you about defying my commands,” Odin barked, standing from his chair and picking up Gungnir. “It appears treason has become a rather trivial pastime of yours, or am I mistaken?”

Thor’s mouth fell open.

“Loki is to be removed from your bedchamber and taken to the dungeons. That is my command.” Odin turned to Tyr and nodded. “See to it.”

Lightening blazed and reflected in his son’s eyes. “No!”

Thor threw himself in front of Tyr, his hands raised. “Father, please, will you not hear me first?”

Odin raised a hand. “I will not. Move, or you will be moved.”

Thor looked from his father to Tyr. “He is to be granted a healer, General, it is the law - “

“Do not recite the law to me, Prince,” growled Tyr, “You do not command me.”

Frigga entered then. “The King will not hear you, but the Queen will. Tyr, I beseech you to wait,” she said, grasping Thor’s arm and turning her attention to him. “Your brother?”

“Mother – he is not well – “

“What ails him?” Frigga asked, tightening her grip on his arm.

“I don’t know, he is just – not himself...”

Tyr snorted. “Your Highness...”

“I will go to him - “ Frigga said, turning swiftly for the door.

“You will not,” Odin told her. “Frigga, I forbid it.”

Frigga turned as if pierced. “You would forbid a mother from her child?”

“All I do, I do for the good of this realm, and for you. I cannot allow you to obstruct justice in the name of sentiment.”

“Sentiment?” breathed Frigga. “Would you not look upon your son whom you believed dead? Would you not learn what has befallen him? Odin, he has survived the _Void._”

“I will not,” Odin said flatly. “I must treat him as any subject of Asgard. I cannot be lenient simply because he is our son.”

“Like you were lenient with me?” retorted Thor heatedly, “Did I not invade another realm when I travelled to Jotunheim against your command, Father?”

“That was different – you were a foolish child - “

“And so was Loki when he fell!” insisted Thor, thunder clapping outside like a great horse whip. “Father – “

Odin slammed Gungnir into the floor. “You are a subject of this Kingdom, Thor, you are an heir and a Prince. Of all my subjects, you bear the most responsibility. I sent you to Midgard to retrieve your brother and bring him to me for judgment. He will answer for his crimes like any lawbreaker, or must I chain you with him?”

“I only wish for you to see him!” shouted Thor, “He is not himself – do you hear me?”

“I am the King,” stated Odin, “I will see him at his trial -”

“This is not like any of the times before!” shouted Thor, “Something has happened to him! Will you not go to him – will you not see for yourself -”

Odin lifted Gungnir. “BE SILENT! I AM YOUR KING!” The staff slammed into the stone floor and Thor fell to his knees, winded and grasping at his abdomen, shock written all over his face. Frigga’s jaw fell.

“What have you done?”

“I have dealt out the discipline he sorely needs,” stated Odin, and then, “Thor, you will be Loki’s Keep at the trial, no matter his sentence, and should you disobey me again, I will sentence you with him. Guards, remove him, and see to it he does not return to his chambers.” Thor, hoarse and coughing, heaved himself to his feet, still clutching his abdomen where Odin had struck him. He gave Odin a black look and then pressed a kiss to his mother’s forehead before turning to the guards at the door who reluctantly escorted him out.

Odin watched him go, and then turned to face the General. “Loki is to be taken to Eitr Hol, as the traitors of old were.”

Frigga blanched. “Eitr Hol,” she repeated in barely a whisper. “You would not do it again – Odin – please – ”

“Silence. It has become clear to me that the Princes understand little of loyalty and that they would insist on playing war and conquest no matter the destruction it leaves behind.” He watched the fury dance in her eyes as he threw her words back at her. “I would teach them the gravity of their actions.”

“Odin!” she hissed, “Eitr Hol has not been used in millennia! He has not even had a trial!”

But the King of Asgard slammed his staff into the stone floor, and his command rang out across the palace. He stormed from the room, Tyr marching along in his wake.

~*~

The guards escorted Thor up to the east wing, where the family common rooms were, and decidedly opposite to the wing where Thor’s chambers lay. Twice Thor thought of making a run for it, but he felt strange and off balance. He tried to summon Mjolnir, but pain shot through his arm when he did, and with it, crushing shame. Had his behaviour today made him unworthy? He only wanted his father to _look_ at his son. The son who’d fallen into an abyss only a year ago, the son they thought lost to them forever. They entered the family dining hall and Thor turned to the guards.

“You may leave,” he croaked, his throat constricting. Whatever Odin had done to him, it was affecting his ability to speak.

The guards swallowed and one of them spoke up, if a little timidly. “I am sorry my Prince. We are to stay with you until – until - “ he faltered, unsure what to call the wayward prince.

“Loki,” Thor rasped. The guard nodded.

Thor tried to clear his throat. One of the guards brought him a cup of water but it did nothing to ease the burning or the swelling. He was finding it a little difficult to breathe. Odin had not struck him since he was a child, and only then when he had behaved atrociously. Thor had made him angry today - almost as angry as when he banished him to Midgard. Odin had even accused him of treason. And he had made him Loki’s Keep. His chest constricted at the thought. He was to fetch Loki from the dungeons and lead him to trial. He was to bind and shackle him. And when judgment was passed, he was to lead Loki to his fate.

_No matter the sentence._

Odin had meant it as a cruelty, but something in Thor was relieved. He wanted to be at Loki’s side through everything. If there were a shred of hope left for his brother, Thor wanted to be there to champion it.

_No matter the sentence._

The sentence for treason was death. If Loki was found guilty - and Odin had been throwing the word treason around a lot lately - would he mete out death to his own son? Thor bit his lip as he realized he was not so sure of the answer in that moment.

At last a messenger arrived. The guards took their leave of Thor. He watched them leave and then tore from the room in the direction of his chambers.

He was, of course, too late.

He watched from the shadow of the feasting hall archway as they dragged Loki toward the dungeons, his heart in his throat. Ever had he been Loki’s protector. And yet lately they always seemed to end up on opposing sides. Not long ago he would have torn the throats from his brothers captors. But Odin was the King, and Loki had committed grave crimes, and even if Thor knew that something had happened to him, there was no question that Loki had chosen to commit those crimes, and right in the face of Thor’s begging him to come home. For a long moment he considered following them at a distance. He did not want to take his eyes off his brother. But the arguments and accusations in his father’s study had rattled him and he was battling to breathe.

“Your Highness?” A small light voice startled him.

He turned to see a small woman behind him. She had a mess of fiery red curls and bright green eyes that were searching his face in concern.

“I -” he faltered and dissolved into a coughing fit. She frowned and stepped forward, courtly manners forgotten, and placed a firm hand on his cheek.

“Let me look at you,” she said as he tried step back. She frowned as she examined his eyes and placed another hand on his chest. “Who did this to you?” she demanded.

Thor shook his head. “I- it’s noth – nothing - “ He wished he could catch his breath.

“Come with me,” she ordered him, “I have something that will help.”

At a loss for what to do, and unable to actually speak more than a few words at a time, Thor followed her. She led the way past the feasting halls and kitchen toward the medical wing. As they approached the healing wing, Thor remembered that he’d sent for a healer. She must have been coming up to his chambers.

“I’m Sigyn,” she said over her shoulder to him. “Please sit.”

They had walked into one of the outer chambers. Beds lined the extremities of the room and healers whisked in and out, tending the – mercifully few – patients who were there. Sigyn swept off as Thor sat obediently and then doubled over coughing. She returned carrying a cup and pitcher. On a table just next to the bed she set the cup down and, retrieving an assortment of what looked like crushed stone and herbage, mixed up what promised to be a very unpleasant cough mixture. She handed it to Thor and he knocked it back, wincing at the bitter taste.

The relief was almost instant.

He swallowed, coughed twice, and then cleared his throat. She put a hand on his chest and tendrils of yellow fluttered around her fingers. Thor felt a great weight lifting from his chest and drew in a gasping breath. “Thank you, Sigyn,” he said earnestly. She nodded and smiled a little before a look of concern returned to her face.

“Who did this to you?”

Thor looked at her and then dropped his gaze, trying to think of what to say and coming up completely blank.

“It was a cruel spell," Sigyn said crisply. "Though it was not meant to last, it was performed in absolute rage and could have done quite a bit of damage. I’m glad you called for a healer when you did.”

“I didn’t call for me,” Thor blurted out, rubbing his temple. Odin's eyes flashing with rage came to his mind as he decided on the spot to put his trust in this small fiery haired healer. “It’s – my brother - “

Sigyn narrowed her eyes. “Prince Loki?”

“Yes,” he sighed heavily. Did she even know that he still lived? How to explain it all.

“He lives,” Thor said eventually, and left it at that. “He needs a healer.”

Sigyn frowned a little. Asgard’s second Prince was meant to be dead - lost to the Void - and clearly news of his infamous return had not yet traveled. Mercifully, she asked only one question:

“Where is he?”

Thor swallowed. “In the dungeons.” 

Sigyn raised an eyebrow. He gave her a hard look. "I need to be able to trust you."

"Your father did this to you." Sigyn said, green eyes burning.

Thor swallowed. "It's nothing."

"It's not nothing," she said quietly. "But I can see you don't want to talk about it. What tier?"

It took Thor a moment to process her question. "He’ll be in the top floors, where royal prisoners are taken...”

Sigyn nodded. “What are his injuries?”

Thor took a breath and tried to remember. “His side, I think. He was… badly beaten up by.. a hulk - “ Sigyn was watching him carefully as he struggled with his words. “He’s also not… not himself – maybe – maybe you will be able to see what ails his mind?”

Sigyn watched him carefully and after a long moment nodded. “I will see it done, my Prince.”

“Please, call me Thor,” he said, and tried to manage a winning smile. Sigyn smiled at him sympathetically.

“I will see it done, Thor.”


	5. Gossamer Thread

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Truthfully, he looked quite far from well. His hair was ruffled and mussed, as though he’d been running his hands through it compulsively. Right on cue, he reached up and tangled his fingers in it. “I’ll find him, Thor,” she said, putting a tiny hand on his enormous forearm. “I’ll bring word when I’m back.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sigyn gets it done! We'll be getting back to Loki in the next chapter, I promise! I just had to set up a few different events while he sits in Eitr Hol!

Sigyn watched Thor leave the healing wing, his enormous shoulders slumped, the corners of his mouth pulled down, and her heart went out to him. It could not be easy being the Crown Prince, and if the dark circles under his eyes were anything to go by, it was taking a toll. She cleared the bedside table where she’d been treating him and scowled as she thought of the ugly hex the All-father had used on him.

She had been at his failed coronation. Odin’s pride in his firstborn had radiated throughout the palace. It was hard to imagine him lashing out at Thor now.

And then there was Prince Loki. That was a great puzzle. She’d heard of his fall into the Void – a tragic accident as he and Thor had worked together to save Jotunheim from the malfunctioning Bifrost.

Or so the official story went. Sigyn had heard quite a number of stories.

There had been a funeral for Prince Loki. There was no body to burn, so they had held a service under the trees in Queen Frigga’s gardens. Sigyn had never met the raven-haired prince, but he was the most gifted sorcerer in Asgard, and she had once watched him conduct a light show at the Spring Festival. She had been rendered quite breathless by the dancing lights that exploded into butterflies and winged serpents.

Thor had been there long after everyone had drifted back to the Palace. She’d seen him on her way down to the greenhouses, his head in his hands and his big shoulders shaking.

That Loki was alive now must have come as a shock, and judging by Thor’s altercation with his father, the circumstances of his return were complicated. In short, the royal family was a mess, and Sigyn had just agreed to help Thor defy his father for what must not be the first time that day for him. It was alarming, really, how quickly and definitively her allegiances fell.

Her shift would only end late that night, and she would be expected back in the early hours. As one of the junior healers, her hours were long and she answered to Eir for every minute passed in the wing. But Thor’s anxious request had put her heart in knots. She was too soft, and given to rescuing people. Perhaps she and Thor had that in common. She checked the time, made a mental note of what she would need to take with her, and pressed on with her duties.

In the late evening Eir called her to her store room. The Chief Healer was balanced on a barrel, fishing a box from the top shelf.

“Sigyn, take this my dear. I’m in dire need of crushed huber, and stocks from Nornheim won’t arrive till midmonth. There should be some in there. Somewhere.”

Sigyn took the enormous box, using a levitation spell to manage it neatly to the ground. “Of course, Eir.”

“I saw the Crown Prince leaving the wing earlier. What was he treated for?”

Sigyn bit her lip as she bent over the box. “A cough,” she answered lightly. “I think the travel is taking a toll.”

“Hmm,” agreed Eir. “The All-father expects too much of that boy.”

Sigyn pressed her lips together. It would be today that Eir would strike up a conversation she desperately needed to avoid.

"Throne sickness," Eir went on. "Eventually, it gets into their minds, and then they never shake it."

Sigyn frowned up at her. "Throne sickness?"

"You saw it today. Prince Thor used to light up a room when he entered it." Eir shook her head sadly. "Some manage better than others."

Sigyn nodded, falling silent and turning over Eir's words in her mind. 

It took the better part of two hours to get through Eir’s box because there were hundreds of unlabelled packets of crushed herbs and roots that she decided needed sorting out. Sigyn ended up making an inventory of the entire contents, much to Eir’s delight, and in the end they found the huber.

“Thank you, my dear,” Eir said emphatically. “But I must impose on you one hour longer. I need minced corripet for a treatment tomorrow morning. It has to be broiled first. If you wouldn’t mind?”

Sigyn did mind, very much, but her job here would be very much forfeit should she refuse the request.

“Of course, Eir,” she said, and made for the kitchens.

The midnight bell sounded in the courtyard and Sigyn had just finished broiling the corripet tubers.

_Good, _she thought, _They’ll be ready for mincing when I get back._

She had packed a medicine bag while the tubers were on. It was stocked with crushed healing stones, hydration salts, numbing pastes and a supplement draught. She had also saved her lunch time meal in a hot terrine. She set the pot of corripet tubers on a rack to cool and grabbed her bag. If she moved quickly, she would be in the dungeons in under 30 minutes. She left the healing wing, quietly bidding the other junior healers goodnight, avoiding Eir’s office in case the old healer thought of yet another task to delay her with. The residential halls were quiet, but not deserted. There were a few other courtiers about and they greeted her quietly as they made their way home from late library shifts and other errands. The halls grew empty as she neared the government chambers and she picked up her pace, red hair bouncing about her shoulders as she stole through the great passageway, heart drumming.

As she passed the last feasting hall, a large figure stepped out and called to her. She jumped in fright and then realized it was only Thor.

“I’m sorry,” he said, wincing, “I didn’t mean to startle you.”

“It’s quite alright,” she said a little breathlessly. “I just wasn’t expecting you to come out like that.”

“I wanted to accompany you,” he said heavily, “but Father has forbidden it. I tried this afternoon.” His expression was stony as his gaze flicked in the direction of the great Courtroom.

“Something to do with the row you had?” Sigyn asked carefully.

“Mm,” said Thor, biting his lip. “I wouldn’t ask for Loki, when you go down. Tyr doesn’t want anyone near him.”

Sigyn nodded. “I’ll think of something.”

“Truthfully, I don’t know how you’ll get down there. The Queen may be able to help if – if you can’t get in - but...”

Sigyn saw the anxiety on his face. “I’ll manage,” she reassured the prince. And then, “How do feel now?” She smothered the urge to clamp a hand against his forehead and get a sense for herself.

“I am quite well now,” Thor said with a soft smile. “Thanks to you.”

She nodded. Truthfully, he looked quite far from well. His hair was ruffled and mussed, as though he’d been running his hands through it compulsively. Right on cue, he reached up and tangled his fingers in it.

“I’ll find him, Thor,” she said, putting a tiny hand on his enormous forearm. “I’ll bring word when I’m back.”

He swallowed a few times before answering. “Thank you.”

“Of course,” She gave his arm a squeeze. She turned with a reassuring smile and carried on down the great passage, leaving Thor in the shadow, watching after her.

Some distance from the great Courtroom the clink of armour gave her pause. She stood back against one of the wide columns and waited for a pair of Einherjar to pass before continuing, her soft leather boots soundless on the marble floors. The heavy doors of the Courtroom were closed, but mercifully unguarded. She leaned back against one of them until it creaked open and slipped inside. The chamber glowed with pale moonlight that glinted, ghost-like, against the white marble. It gave her a strange feeling and she crossed her arms round herself as she hurried to the stone stairs.

There would be no way to avoid the guards at the dungeon door. She braced herself and put on an air of confidence that one might carry when carrying out orders from the royal family. The guards lifted their heads to the stairs as she descended. The one to the right, taller, and middle aged by the look of his beard, addressed her before she reached the bottom of the stair case.

“What is your business here, miss?”

“Queen Frigga bid me see to a captive from Vanaheim,” she answered steadily.

“Have you her script and seal?” enquired the guard.

“No,” Sigyn shrugged, trying to look sheepish. “I am under instruction from Eir,” and then added in an exasperated hushed tone, “You know how she can be.”

The guards looked at each other. Sigyn sighed. “Shall I send for her? She expects me back at dawn, so I really don’t have a lot of time.” She folded her arms and stifled a rather real yawn.

The younger guard shrugged and looked enquiringly at his companion. The elder nodded and unlocked the door. “You know your way down?”

“I’ll manage,” Sigyn replied, thrilled at her success. The door shut behind her and the staircase fell away down into the darkness, the flickering lanterns casting a dim glow against the stone. She stepped lightly, a hand running along the wall to keep her footing, until finally she came to the wide platform at the bottom. She took the second stair case to the left – a much shorter descent – and met the guards at the entrance to the top tier of cells. They were called Bjord and Erik and they politely asked her business.

“Queen Frigga bid me see to a captive from Vanaheim,” she said to them, knowing full well it was a risk. But Erik, who was younger than his companion, seemed eager to please, and she had a feeling she could get him on sides pretty easily. She flashed him a kind smile. He gave her a half smile back and turned to look at Bjord.

“There ain’t no dignitaries from Vanaheim, miss,” said Bjord. “There’s a trader from Vanaheim in tier 1 – but he wouldn’t be of no concern to the Queen.”

“Ah,” said Sigyn rubbing at her temple. “I must have gotten mixed up. Maybe it was Nornheim she said? Do you have any prisoners from there?”

They shook their heads. “Need to get your instructions straight, miss,” Bjord tutted. “The Queen won’t be pleased.”

“I know,” whined Sigyn pathetically, “It’s just – I’m a trainee in the healing rooms and we’re there from dawn to midnight. Eir demands her pound of flesh and more. It’s turning my head to meal.”

The guards laughed sympathetically and Sigyn knew she had them.

“Would you let me have a look at anyone who needs treatment anyway? That way I can say I saw to it without lying.” She grinned pleadingly. Bjord pursed his lips and then nodded.

“I’ll need to escort you ma’am,” said Erik eagerly.

Sigyn smiled, genuine relief flooding her chest. She had not figured out yet whether they would allow her into Loki’s cell, but Erik seemed amenable to subtle persuasion. She followed him down a narrow corridor and finally into a large brightly lit chamber. Bright white cells lined the cavern, walled on three sides by glittering magical barriers that emitted a low hum. Inside the cells were well-dressed people reading books and lounging boredly on chaises. Sigyn wondered abstractly how on earth rich dignitaries ended up in jail. There was probably all kinds of petty politics and hurt feelings involved.

“I don’t know if you got the right tier, miss,” Erik was saying, “There’s no one up here what’s injured or sick.”

“I’ll just have a check through, shall I?” Sigyn said lightly. They moved down the first row of cells, and then the second. Sigyn began to feel anxious when halfway down the third and final row there was no sign of the raven-haired Prince. There were tall, dark haired men from Alfheim, but none of them were Loki, and Sigyn felt disappointment and a strange sort of anxiety fill her chest.

“When last were royal prisoners brought in?” she asked casually as they made their way back out. Erik shot her a strange look.

“Well, to tier 3, last one was maybe three weeks ago, miss. Not including the Prince, of course.”

_Norns, may my luck hold! _Sigyn thought triumphantly.

“The Prince?” Sigyn inquired innocently. “Prince Thor?”

“No,” said the guard conspiratorially. “The Traitor-Prince. Prince Loki.”

Sigyn stared at him wide eyed, only slightly surprised in reality. “But Prince Loki was lost to the Void.”

“Seems he came back all twisted up,” Erik said darkly. “Went on a rampage down on Midgard and well, Prince Thor had to go get him. Brought him down here to the Eitr Hol. But don’t tell anyone that – I’m not supposed to say...”

“Oh no, never,” said Sigyn in a hushed tone. “What an informed fellow you are,” she added. He puffed up at that and gave her a big grin as they came out onto the landing. She could not very well ask him now where Eitr Hol was, with Bjord watching her expectantly. She thanked them both and lamented her failed mission, and then climbed the stairs, frowning. This business with Prince Loki was getting more complicated by the minute. Why had he not been brought to the dungeons? Where was Eitr Hol? Stopping up on the great platform between the staircases Sigyn cast about her for an idea. After a moment she decided to put out a magical tracer and try to get a sense of any other magic wielders in the vicinity. It would not be easy - there were likely quite a few in the tier three cells, but Sigyn was looking for a very particular magical signature and she thought she might be able to trace it without having felt it before. Loki’s magic was a rare and extraordinary thing. She doubted his signature would not be as singular. She closed her eyes for a minute and sent out a tracer.

As expected, a small collection of signatures came back. In her minds eyes they appeared as threads stretching away from her towards the tier three cells. None of them belonged to the Prince, she would know it once she found it. She sent the tracer further out, reaching with her seidr. There was something at the edges of her senses that she tried to grasp, but it was like trying to pick out a soft sound in a forest. Every time you thought you’d located the source, there’d be a scuffling or fluttering somewhere else to draw your gaze.

Finally, somewhere beneath her, she felt a rather definite fluttering of seidr. She followed it, down, through miles of pitch black, picking out the gossamer thread of flickering green. They hadn’t put him in the top tiers with the other royal prisoners. They’d buried in the heart of the earth, but where was the passage that led there? Some special chamber, she thought, buried beneath these cells. There had to be a door. She opened her eyes and looked about her. There were no other stairs or passage ways. Her eyes moved over the stone wall straight across the platorm and she realized there _was_ a door there. It was hard to see, hewn roughly into the rocks so that in the dimly lit dungeon one would not make it out if you didn’t know it was there. She strode to it and put her hands up just a few inches from touching and reached out with her seidr to examine it.

A blood rite. Of course. It was probably enchanted to open only for the royal family and the King’s guard. Would that Thor were here. She studied the door, eyes landing on the smooth rectangular panel. Upon closer inspection she could see the smear of blood there.

She contemplated a moment. The blood was dry. If she turned it back to liquid perhaps it would activate the spell. She wasn’t sure if a liquefying spell would work. It may need to be fresh blood for all she knew. But it was all she had and so, with a small twitch of fingers, she whispered the spell. The smear of blood appeared to bubble a little. She watched anxiously. It did not brighten and she thought that might be a problem. But after a moment there was a small clicking sound and, hefting her entire weight against the stone, she almost laughed aloud to find that it creaked open. Heart thumping, she stepped into the dark passageway. It was pitch black. She conjured a were light and turned to look at the door. There appeared to be another smooth rectangular stone that served as the key from the inside. It too was smeared with blood, but Sigyn was reluctant to count on being successful with that particular spell twice. The last thing she needed was guards following her down and now that she thought of it, she wasn't sure what spells had been placed on the passageway. She could only hope it was not enchanted against would-be prison-breakers. Unable to think of anything else, she shifted the door until it was only open a crack, hoping that as it was already difficult to spot in the stone wall outside, no one would notice. She wasn’t even sure the Prince wasn’t heavily guarded down at the bottom of whatever this was. She was counting on being able to feign ignorance and claim she was acting under orders if she was caught. Wanting to be sure of what was down the stone steps, she sent a tracer out, reaching with her magic to feel any other presence. She touched on the same fluttering green thread, and nothing more. It seemed she and Prince Loki were alone. She sent the werelight down the steep staircase. It floated down, getting further and further away and soon she gave up waiting for it to reach the bottom and sent several more ahead of her, keeping one hovering above her head. Taking a deep breath, she began what promised to be a long climb down.


	6. Just Loki

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The lights rose higher into the air to reveal a small woman with fiery red hair that fell in bright tangles about her waist. Loki caught his breath, fear still coursing through him like a fever.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warnings: effects of torture, psychological trauma, wound treatment.  
I had a hard time with this chapter, but I think I'm happy with it now! I'll get better at capturing someone's inner voice!  
It's going to be a long road for Loki, so this may be a little rough. Things WILL improve! One day!!  
Oh, excuse typos! I'll do my best to go back through and get rid of them!

He was falling.

The dark was clawing at his chest, trying to get in.

In the end, it did.

_He did not know where he was, only that he was on his hands and knees and could not lift his head._

_“You’re a long way from home, Asgardian.”_

_When he managed to push himself upright, broken bones splintering inside his flesh, he was looking up at the largest being he’d ever encountered. He wore gold armor and held an obsidian blade in massive hands – a history of cruelty written in the clawing scars on his forearms._

_Loki looked into his eyes and said, “I’m not Asgardian.”_

_The Titan leaned down, removed his helmet and cradled Loki’s head in one enormous scarred hand. Pain exploded behind his eyes and he screamed, trying to lurch away._

_“Discarded by two royal families,” the Titan said reprovingly, “You’ve not made much of yourself.”_

_He released him. Loki crumpled, panting and sobbing into the grey stone beneath him, the darkness burrowing deep into his chest._

_“Loki, son of None, I offer you salvation.”_

_The pain behind his eyes exploded again and he screamed._

He shook awake choking on bile behind the gag. It burned his throat and came up through his nose. He tried to spit, to open his mouth even a little, panic rising. He was going to die choking on his own vomit. He swallowed convulsively, trying to get it back down. It couldn’t go anywhere else. His nose ran and his eyes burned. His wrists ached. He leaned his forehead against the stone and tried to catch his breath, sucking aching breaths through his wet nose. Water dripped steadily from the black above. It had drenched him and it was burning the gashes on his back. A sound somewhere to his right made him freeze. Rubble shifting. Small stones skittering from a height down the rockface and to the floor. Terror gripped him.

_Jormungandr._

He twisted his neck to stare into the dark. It was an old legend. They didn’t do that anymore in Asgard.

_And t__hey can’t have a trial if I’m dead,_ he thought stupidly.

_There are worse things to be than dead. _

The cave was silent again and he swallowed, trying to bury his fear. He had never been very brave. That was Thor’s arena. Impossible in strength. Immovable. Nothing and no one had any choice but to yield to his will. His thunder and lightening were only a light show – a precursor to the tempest of his emotions, always raw, fiery, hot and unmanaged. He swept through the world, a hurricane of warmth and golden light. He was the storm and the lighthouse both. He raged, and the world yielded. He feared neither man nor beast. He did not need to.

The darkness in Loki’s chest convulsed.

_The Prince’s only need of the Beast is to die. _

There was a scraping to his left. Loki shut his eyes and shook his head. Hysteria was bubbling in his throat. He tried to gather himself. Tyr had said there would be a trial. He just didn’t believe it. Odin hadn’t had him brought to the throne room. Hadn’t even met the guard on the way to the dungeons. Had sent him to the pit where all Asgard’s monsters went.

Loki tried to even his breathing, clear his mind. He felt sick. His head ached.

The scraping soon became the unmistakeable sound of something advancing. He shivered.

_Coward. _

He turned to see two bright yellow spheres undulating through the darkness toward him. His throat closed up and terror shook through him but he did not look away. He would face the serpent, he would be brave in the end, even if no one would know.

The serpent’s eyes began to drift apart as he watched. The scuffling began to pitter and patter, and soon the gloom began to lift as more glowing yellow spheres appeared, illuminating soft leather boots and an olive green skirt muddied round the hem. They rose higher into the air to reveal a small woman with fiery red hair that fell in bright tangles about her waist. Loki caught his breath, fear still coursing through him like a fever. The woman carried a bag with her and as she reached the rock to which Loki was chained, her mouth fell open and she dropped to her knees in the bloodied water, reaching for him, her werelights hovering a way above them.

He jerked away from her. She stopped just short of his shoulder. Their eyes met, mirrors of emerald, his dark with pain and terror, hers bright with fury that did not seep into her voice.

“My Prince, let me help you.”

She reached for the back of his head and unclipped the gag. He hissed through his teeth as it came away from his face caked in blood and bile. She made an angry noise and tossed the gag away. It clattered into the dark. Loki spat the taste of bile out of his mouth and drew shaking breaths.

“Here,” she was holding a skin of water. She held it to his lips and he drank what he could before his stomach began churning.

“A little more,” she pressed.

He shook his head. “I can’t.”

She nodded after a moment and looked up to see the chains on his wrists. She stood and reached for his left hand.

“Don’t - “ he blurted, but her fingers closed around his wrist anyway and he hissed in pain.

“I’m sorry,” she said, “I just want to get it off – ow!”

“What happened?” he croaked.

“Nothing,” she said quickly, “These are barbaric. I’m going to get them off - “

“No - “ rasped Loki, “They won’t come off for you.”

“That remains to be seen.” The defiance in her eyes gripped him.

He gave a shaky chuckle. “I admire your determination, but you don’t have the right blood.”

The woman pursed her lips. “Whose blood do we need?”

Loki actually laughed aloud. It dissolved into coughing mere seconds later but he managed to catch his breath and then looked up at her, slightly speechless.

“Who else’s?” he said eventually.

The woman pressed her lips together and looked at the manacle again. It was made from some sort of black metal. Unlike the gag, there were no clips or lock mechanisms. It was a perfectly seamless band, save for where it connected to the chains which were strung through the iron rings on the stone. Strange runes were carved into it’s surface. She studied them. Loki watched her deliberate. He was sore and sick and completely fascinated by this little wild-haired woman who planned on breaking his chains.

She held a hand over the iron ring instead. The rock beneath her hand began to crack where the ring was fastened. The iron began to rattle as she drew it from its fitting, sweat beading on her brow. Loki watched her, slightly agape. After a few minutes she dropped her hand, wiping her brow with her sleeve, and taking a deep breath.

“I think I can pull it the rest of the way out,” she muttered and Loki wasn’t sure if she was talking to him or not.

She did pull it out, wrestling it from the stone and shielding Loki from the crumbling bits of stone that shook loose with her thick skirts. She took his forearm gently in her small hand and lowered both the chain and his arm, setting the chain on the stone floor and his arm in his lap. He stared at the chains lying in a pile on the wet floor. She stepped across and began work on the other iron ring. When she lay the chains down, Loki slumped against the wall on his side with a hiss of pain. She knelt in front of him. He stared at her. There was a little blood on her nose which she wiped with her sleeve. She had freckles and long eyelashes. Her eyes blazed.

“I need to clean those whip wounds.”

Loki swallowed. Her brows creased sympathetically. “I’ll be gentle.”

She was.

It still hurt so much that Loki cried. He felt pathetic. She cut his leathers from his back and peeled them off. It pulled against the cuts and he squirmed. He saw her eyes catch on the scars on his chest as she helped him shift for her.

“I’m Sigyn,” she said. “Junior healer in Eir’s healing wing.”

Loki hissed as she pressed numbing ointment into the wounds and agony ripped through his back for a long moment.

“Do you know what you’re doing?” He asked breathlessly.

“Most of the time,” she muttered.

After the numbing ointment, she stitched up each gash, nine in total. By the end of it he was trembling violently and smearing tears off his face with a dirty sleeve.

“I’m sorry,” she said, and came to kneel in front of him again. She took cloth from her bag and wet it with clean water. She wiped the blood and bile from his face. He watched her and hated the pity on her face.

“Don’t,” he said, taking hold of her wrist. She stilled and searched his eyes. “Don’t pity me.”

Something crossed her face that reminded him distinctly of Thor. She held his gaze for a moment and then carefully resumed cleaning his face. His hand only fell from her wrist when she drew back. His chains clinked against the stone and her gaze flickered to the manacles again.

Next she took out more numbing ointment and asked which side hurt, indicating his rib cage. He frowned a little and shifted his right arm, allowing her to apply it for him. 

“Why are you here?” he asked.

Sigyn studied his face. “Your brother said you needed help.”

A strange mix of emotions roiled in Loki’s chest. His head throbbed.

“Why do you call me Prince?”

“You are a Prince of Asgard,” she said simply.

He gave a humorless laugh.

"Are you not afraid, Sigyn?” he asked softly.

"Of what, my Prince?"

“This is where they send the monsters."

“There's nothing down here but you and I,” Sigyn said gently. "I sent out a tracer."

Loki shook his head, eyes flickering to the black ceiling.

Sigyn followed his gaze, comprehending. "Those are stories, my Prince, from long ago - they don't do that anymore - "

“Don’t they?” he said breathlessly. He rubbed his temple, screwing his eyes shut. His head was splitting. Suddenly, like the darkness that had bored into his chest, something desolate forced its way into his mind. He thought his skull would crack. He cried out, clutching his head and doubling over.

“Prince Loki?”

He could hear screaming in the back of his mind. The pain behind his eyes was becoming unbearable. Small arms came around him as he sagged forward.

_Weak, base creature. _

“It’s alright, just breathe.” A soft voice in his ear. He cried out as the pain seared through his mind and panic seized him.

_I offer you salvation._

_His hands were covered in blood. He didn’t understand. He looked up and the Mad Titan was grinning at him. He heaved a dry wracking sob._

_“I’m sorry - “_

_"Coward."_

He couldn't breathe. He clawed for air. He choked. 

Firm hands cradled his head. He waited for the agonizing burst but it didn't come.

“Ssh,” murmured Sigyn. He shook his head and tried to pull away from her, but she held onto him.

“Prince Loki, look at me.”

He couldn’t.

_“I’m sorry - “_

He heard her mutter something as she pressed warm fingers against his temples. The pain began to subside.

“Ssh.”

He stopped trying to pull away and instead leaned into her touch, shoulders sagging in relief as the pain receded.

“You’re safe,” she murmured, stroking the back of his head. His throat closed. 

"Does this happen often?"

Loki didn't answer. He couldn't. He felt like he'd been turned inside out. But he didn't want to move, so he stayed there, head cradled on Sigyn's knees and tried desperately not to think of Frigga. 

It was some time later that Sigyn stilled her attentions. "My Prince," she murmured. "I'm expected back in the healing wing soon. Will you eat, if I leave something for you?"

Loki sat up slowly. Perhaps he had expected her to mock him, because he was surprised when she she squeezed his arm and gave him a reassuring smile. 

She rummaged in her bag and pulled a flask and a terrine of food out.

“Please drink this. Slowly, so you don’t vomit. And then eat. You need it.”

Loki did not think he could keep anything down. But he nodded as she set the items near him.

She began gathering her things. “I have to go. I need to tell Thor where you've been sent.” She stood and hefted her bag, watching him, concern in all her features.

To his shame, his eyes filled. He hadn’t realized how much he needed someone with him until faced with her departure.

“Thank you,” he croaked.

“Of course, Prince Loki.”

He shook his head and caught her hand. “Just Loki.”

She squeezed it. “Loki.”


	7. Nothing So Simple

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It felt so recent when he had sat side by side with his brother in the feasting hall. They’d been laughing – or, he had – Loki – what had Loki been doing? Loki had been smiling. That small reserved smile he wore when he was trying to please company, but his mind was elsewhere. What had he been thinking about?
> 
> When had his curious and quick-witted brother, whose face used to light up when he mastered new spellwork – whose eyes crinkled as he grinned mischievously at a harmless prank played upon their mother – when had he become the cruel, wild-eyed general leading an invasion that Thor had battled in New York?
> 
> How had he let his brother get so far from him?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We get a bit more into Thor's head in this chapter. None of this is simple and it hurts.  
I apologize for any punctuation and grammar errors, and typos, I do go back through every so often to try pick 'em up!  
Thanks to everyone whose commented and left kudos so far! It's so fun writing this and I'm glad there are people enjoying it!

Sigyn reached the top of the narrow staircase, out of breath and out of sorts. The door was thankfully still cracked open. She reached for it only to have it shoved open against her. She stumbled back as one of the Einherjar stepped inside, eyes widening at the sight of her. He seized her arm.

“How did you get in here?” he demanded.

Sigyn’s heart thudded. “I was bid see to Prince Loki," she said, as confidently as she could. 

He eyed the medical bag. “By whom?”

She hesitated. Whoever she named would face the All-father. Her eyes flickered to the bag slung over his shoulder and back to his face.

“Tell me what you’ve done and I will spare you answering to the General,” he said in a low voice.

Sigyn took a breath.

“I’ve treated him. And detached the chains - “

“You freed him?” demanded the soldier, grip tightening round her arm.

Sigyn lifted her chin. “I unfastened the chains from the rock. I could not remove the manacles.”

The soldier’s eyes flashed.

“They’re barbaric,” she said angrily, “They haven’t been used in centuries - “

“He is a traitor to the crown,” interrupted the Einherji.

“So they say,” Sigyn scoffed darkly. He stared at her. The moments passed slowly as they stared each other down. Sigyn could not imagine how she was going to get out of this. The Einherji frowned then, and let go of her arm.

“Your nose - “ he said, lifting a hand, unsure what to do. She frowned at him and reached up. Her fingers came away bloody. She wiped the blood away with her sleeve.

“It’s the air down here,” she muttered, digging in her bag for a piece of cloth.

The Einherji watched her with narrowed eyes for a moment. “You took food?” he asked quietly.

Sigyn nodded slowly.

“Next time, bring it to me. If General Tyr catches you down here you’ll be tried along with the Prince.”

Sigyn stared at him.

“You should leave, before they change shifts. Or they’ll question you on your way out.”

“Who are you?” she asked. He opened his mouth to reply, and then seemed to think better of it.

“A friend of the Prince,” he said softly. He turned and lit a torch and began the descent. Sigyn stared after him, hope welling in her chest.

The guards looked at her strangely as she passed back through the courtroom. Looking down at her skirts she realized they were stained with mud and blood. She hurried across the white marble floor of the great Courtroom. Outside, light was beginning to creep above the horizon. She could make it to the healing wing on time, but only if she didn’t change. Her filthy dress would raise too many questions. She would have to be late and make an excuse. She heaved the Courtroom doors open and took off down the great hall.

By the time she’d changed and arrived in the healing wing, Eir was exceptionally displeased. Sigyn found her in the kitchen, boiling a fresh pot of corripet tubers. With a lurch she realized she’d been too late to have them minced and ready, and the ones she’d boiled the night before were sitting in a terrine looking rather worn out.

“You were expected at dawn, my girl,” Eir admonished. “And I can’t use these - “ she indicated the corripet tubers - “because they’ve been sitting in cold water for hours. Where on earth have you been?”

“My apologies, Eir, it won’t happen again,” said Sigyn breathlessly.

“I didn’t ask for an apology, Sigyn, I asked _where you’d been. _I won’t abide late nights spent in dance halls -”

“She was with me,” came a deep voice behind them. “My apologies, Eir.”

“Prince Thor,” said Eir, turning to face him in surprise. He stood awkwardly in the doorway, hands clasped. Eir looked him up and down once. “I wasn’t aware you’d called for a healer. What ails you?”

“It’s only a cough,” said Thor quickly, “But it left me unable to sleep and so - “

“I took him a sleeping draught,” Sigyn interrupted, “And a rosemary tincture.”

“Indeed," said Eir wryly, scrutinizing Thor, "By the sounds of it, it took quite some time to administer, then?”

“Oh yes,” said Thor at once, barely catching Sigyn’s chagrined look behind Eir. He floundered. “I mean – that is to say, it took some time to take effect - “

Eir looked at Sigyn and raised her eyebrow.

“Eir,” pleaded Thor, abashed, “Please don’t scold her on my account. I apologise for robbing you of what I’m sure is one of your best - “

“It’s quite alright,” said Eir with an air of exasperation. She turned to Sigyn. “The Prince has absolved you, Sigyn. Though perhaps next time you might send word so that I might prepare my ingredients in your absence.” She gave Sigyn a reproving look and Sigyn nodded obediently.

“Of course, Eir.”

The chief healer swept from the room.

Sigyn watched her go and then let out a breath. Thor’s shoulders sagged in relief. Sigyn raised an eyebrow at him.

“You’re afraid of her, aren’t you?”

Thor’s jaw dropped. “I am not afraid of her,” he muttered.

She laughed. “Then why are you whispering?”

He glanced at the door Eir had exited and smiled sheepishly. “Maybe a little afraid. She’s known me since I was born.”

Sigyn giggled and then grew sombre.

They began speaking at once.

“Thor - “

“Sigyn, might we speak - “

“Yes,” said Sigyn, leading him out of the wing.

“I don’t have very long,” she said once they were out in the hallway. “Thor, Loki – oh - “ Red droplets spattered the front of her dress.

Thor reached out to her in concern. “Sigyn? What’s the matter?”

“Ugh – it’s – I’ve overexerted - “ She pulled a handkerchief from her pockets and held it to her nose. “And I haven’t slept.”

Thor’s brow creased. “Sigyn, I should never have asked - “

“No,” she said firmly, “It’s nothing I’ve not done before. Thor, Loki’s not in the dungeons. He’s in Eitr Hol.”

Thor’s face darkened. “Eitr Hol hasn’t been opened in milennia.”

“Well they opened it for Loki. They’ve got him chained up – these awful magical restraints – and they whipped him - “

Thor’s fingers were curling into fists. “Did you see to him?”

“Of course I did,” Sigyn wiped her nose and pressed her fingers to it. They came away clean and she stuffed the handkerchief away. “But Thor – the manacles – they’ll prevent him from properly healing. He’s a magic user, which means his healing process is driven in part by his own seidr. They’re a barbaric ancient device - “

Thor blanched. “The manacles?”

“Yes, they’ve got him in magical restraints – what is it?”

Thor was knotting his fingers in his hair again. “I didn’t know,” he gritted out. “I’d never have put them on him if I knew - “

“_You_ put them on him?” Sigyn said, aghast.

Thor rubbed his face. “It is a long tale, Sigyn. What of his mind?”

Sigyn stared at him. “I think the binding of his magic is part of that. He had a sort of… fit… while I was down there.”

Thor grimaced. “Thank you for going to him. How did you get past the guards?”

Sigyn shook her head. “Lying, and magic.”

Thor barked a humorless laugh. “That sounds like Loki.”

“Thor, there’s something else. One of the Einherjar caught me when I was coming back up - “ Thor raised his eyebrows. “- he let me go. He said he was a friend of the Prince.”

Thor nodded slowly. “So we have an ally.”

“We do.”

Thor tried to measure his pace as he marched toward the throne room. He had bid Sigyn farewell, and told her he did not know how to thank her, kissed her hand and then tried to decide the best course of action. He could not simply demand Loki’s release. He had to play Father’s game. This was not his strong suit. This was Loki’s forte. Dancing around egos and politics, always knowing what to say and how to manipulate everyone into doing what he wanted. And all the while they'd think it was their idea. He snorted aloud. Thor didn’t know the first thing about it.

That Loki had been whipped had his temper bubbling. Thunder rolled in the distance. It did not bode well. That the manacles were binding Loki’s magic was not news to him, but that it prevented him from healing, and that his mind seemed addled without it, was not a side effect he expected. He berated himself for understanding so little about his brother. By the time he arrived at his father’s study, he was wracked with guilt and boiling with rage. He threw the door open and Odin, standing by the window, turned his head to glance over his shoulder.

“Loki has been sent to Eitr Hol!” growled Thor.

Odin turned fully and regarded his son. Thor wanted to run him through with Mjolnir. Wind whipped through the wide window.

“Indeed, he has,” said Odin plainly. “Control your temper, my boy.”

“_He was to be sent to the dungeons!_” gritted Thor.

“And had you obeyed my command, the dungeons is where he would be,” stated Odin.

“Since when do we send prisoners to torture, Father? Those are the old ways!”

Odin folded his arms behind his back and walked around to his desk. “Not long ago, you told me I was a fool to forsake the old ways.”

“I was a _child- _“ ranted Thor - “you_ punished _me - “

“And now I’m punishing Loki!” barked Odin. “You were banished off world, he has been banished to Eitr Hol – not nearly as far away - “

“It’s a torture chamber!” cried Thor. “You used to read us stories on your knee – he was terrified of it - “

“And like I used to tell you when I read you stories on my knee, _there’s nothing down there to be terrified of,_” said Odin wearily. “I am trying to teach him something, Thor - “

“_You had him whipped!_” shouted Thor, as thunder clapped above them. “He was already in chains – defeated - “

“I gave no such command,” said Odin furiously.

“Then under whose command was it done?” seethed Thor. “I will tear them limb - “

“Mine,” came Tyr’s voice from behind him. He inclined his head at the All-father. “It was necessary to subdue him - “

“That’s not true!” bellowed Thor, rounding on him. “I saw him – he went with you willingly - “

“Enough,” snapped Odin. “Tyr, his imprisonment will suffice. Leave him be until the trial. See to it he is treated.”

“He has been,” snarled Tyr. “But not by my leave - ”

"Father, this is not _right__!_" Thor yelled.

Odin slammed both his hands onto his desk. "By the gods, do not speak to me of what is right, Thor! By rights Loki would have been executed on arrival! He is a Prince of Asgard - he was King Regent not two years ago - his crimes against the Nine as a Royal custodian of the throne are unforgivable! I am the King, and I am his father - now I ask you my boy, in all your wisdom, _what would you have me do?"_

Thor breathed heavily, heart in his throat. He was too angry to do this. He wanted to raze the Palace.

“I want to see him,” he growled, “He's my brother.”

Odin sighed heavily. “The trial will be held in a fortnight. You will see him then, not before. Now, unless you wish for me to name Tyr his Keep instead, you will accept these terms and leave my office. And take this wretched weather with you.”

Thor left.

The thunderstorm followed him out of the Palace and across the fields to Pejnor. He walked, Mjolnir hanging on his belt, and all the while his mind churned and his heart raged.

When had everything become so complicated?

It felt so recent when he had sat side by side with his brother in the feasting hall. They’d been laughing – or, he had – Loki – what had Loki been doing? Loki had been smiling. That small reserved smile he wore when he was trying to please company, but his mind was elsewhere. What had he been thinking about?

When had his curious and quick-witted brother, whose face used to light up when he mastered new spellwork – whose eyes crinkled as he grinned mischievously at a harmless prank played upon their mother – when had he become the cruel, wild-eyed general leading an invasion that Thor had battled in New York?

How had he let his brother get so far from him?

“_I’ll take that drink now.”_

Thor hadn’t let him say much after that. Loki had grinned at him, pink tongue flicking out to wet his lips. Even in defeat he was sharp-tongued and jeering. He’d mocked Steve Rogers and Thor had lost his temper, clamped the gag on him, bound him up. He hadn’t noticed it then, but Loki had subsided after that, and not only because he couldn’t speak. They’d stayed the night at Stark’s tower, sharing a room. No one trusted Loki to a cell on his own. Ever had he been able to find the kinks in the armor. Thor had sewn up the gash in his side while Loki’s eyes smirked at him over the gag. He’d seized Loki by the shoulders. He’d wanted to shake him till the darkness in his eyes cleared out. It was like looking into the Void and Thor hated it – raged at it – desperate for a glimpse of his brother.

“What’s happened to you?” he’d wanted to say, “What’s become of you?”

But Loki was glaring at him and Thor found all he could do was search his brothers face, desperately trying to see beyond the mask. Loki had pushed a sharp breath through his nose and looked right into Thor’s eyes and Thor had let his hands fall from Loki’s shoulders, aching at the cold he saw there.

He had gone to Earth to retrieve his brother, but Thor barely recognized him. It was not him, and yet… and yet that was not altogether true. He was changed, true enough, but Thor had known Loki’s ire, his venomous tongue, long before his failed coronation. Perhaps what made it so difficult to accept was that Thor could not honestly say that all this was not something he’d thought Loki capable of.

He dropped to the ground under a tree overlooking the hills and put his face in his hands. Loki had loved this place. He'd practised spellwork out here when he needed space, in case things went awry. Thor reached behind him and pressed a hand to the tree's thick trunk, grazing his fingers over the gnarled bark until they caught in a familiar groove. Loki had marked his first light show here. They'd been only boys - not even fifty years old. Loki had dragged Thor out to the field - a great distance for them when they were that age - and insisted he watch.

"I've almost got it, Thor! Just look! One more time - I swear - "

It was dark by the time Loki succeeded. Thor's mouth had dropped open. Lights danced about Loki's head and he was laughing and smiling as he conducted them with sweeping arms. He'd sent them barrelling at Thor and they'd swirled around him, catching him in a hurricane of light. Thor had squealed in delight, and afterwards he could not stop looking at his little brother, glowing with pride. Loki had carved a little sun into the peppernut tree.

"I want to remember this, Thor," he'd said softly, "I never want to forget how it feels to do something so _wonderful._"

Thor ached. He longed for his brother. He longer for the easy days, before the throne had driven an ugly wedge between them. Thor had felt it long before the coronation. But he'd brushed it off, like a fool. Loki would never be brushed off. Thor had been so full of his own ambitions he’d brushed aside his little brother, assuming Loki _knew –_ assuming he’d find his place at Thor’s side and take it without hesitation.

And here they were. Loki had found his place, but it was not at Thor's side. 

He’d sat all night in Stark’s tower, brooding, fuming, and pacing.

Loki, Norns above, had slept.

He’d lain on the enormous bed and curled into himself and _slept_.

Thor had left him, preferring the sound of his even breathing to the waves of hatred that seemed to emanate from him every moment they were in a room together.

But Loki’s even breathing had soon turned shallow and hitching. He’d whimpered behind the gag, a keening sound that had Thor’s heart in his throat. He’d thrashed himself awake and Thor had crossed the room before he could think what he was doing.

He’d pressed a warm hand to his brothers cheek and Loki had jerked back, terror in his eyes.

Thor had turned on the bedside lamp and Loki’s shoulders had sagged in relief. For the first time in what seemed like centuries Loki’s face was an open book, desperation and grief naked on his face, emerald eyes awash in tears. Thor’s throat had closed and he had pulled his brother to him. Loki had allowed it for the briefest of moments before hauling himself away and to the corner of the room where he slumped and took sharp breaths through his nose. Thor’s heart had stuck in his throat and guilt had settled deep in his chest.

Something had happened to his little brother – something had hurt him – broken him – possibly beyond repair – and Thor had not been there to protect him.

And so when they arrived on Asgard, Thor’s only thought had been to protect him, to salvage what was left of the Loki he knew before. He’d thought little on Loki’s crimes, and even less on his Father’s responsibility for them. The All-father was Ruler over Asgard, and all the Nine were under his protection. He’d made Thor swear to protect the Nine, and though Thor hadn’t been crowned that day, he’d sworn the oath all the same. Loki had challenged those oaths in the most direct way he knew how.

“_Your precious earth!” _

Thor had been so happy when Heimdall had brought news that Loki lived. And then he’d been livid. When he’d hauled Loki out of the quinjet and confronted him, it had been like arguing when they were boys. He’d begged Loki to come home.

Would that he had just come home.

But he had made things so much worse.

When Thor stopped to think about it, out here in the silence, away from the tension in the palace, he realized that nothing about this was simple – not for Loki, not for Father, not for anyone. Loki had taken up the scepter. He’d opened a wormhole. He’d killed over 100 people, and that was before counting the Jotuns who were annihilated by the Bifrost. 

Thor’s chest constricted. He thought of Jotunheim more than he liked to admit. He’d slain every Jotun that had come within his reach that night. He had not counted them, but Heimdall had reported the death toll to Odin and Thor had seen it written in a record book after his return one night.

143.

He rubbed his face. Had he not led an invasion of his own? He’d had less soldiers, and he’d not made alliances with Asgard’s enemies, but his plans were no less ambitious than Loki’s, and they were born of a desire to prove himself.

Was this not what Loki was doing? After everything – after learning of his heritage – did he not have every reason to try to prove himself?

It vexed Thor that Father had taken his own invasion of Jotunheim so lightly in comparison, but colluding with an enemy of the Kingdom and taking innocent lives were not something that could be excused, no matter how much Thor loved his brother. But there was something missing in the puzzle – something hidden – if only Father would listen to him. He only wished for Father to understand – understand what he’d _seen_ that night.

With a pang, Thor realized he had not had a civil discussion with his Father since his arrival. His hot temper and rash decisions were making this twice as hard as it should be. Perhaps if he spoke with Father… if they agreed not to lose their tempers… he could persuade him to at least see Loki before the trial.

Thor picked at the blades of grass beneath him and took a moment to breathe. The skies above him had begun to clear. His anger had burned out and in its place only exhaustion remained. He leaned back against the large peppernut tree and closed his eyes. He would go back to the Palace and apologize to Father. He would explain everything he saw without bias. He would ask Father to help him. To help Loki. They were his sons. He was their Father. They could fix this, if they simply worked together. Hadn’t that always been the way of it? Isn’t that what fathers and sons did?

He chewed his lip, unsure of the answer.


	8. A Debt

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I owe you a great debt - “  
“Then I release you from it!” Loki exclaimed tersely, “Consider it paid in full, thrice over!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This took me a while to bang out - all three pages of it *smacks face* I've been fretting over Loki's inner dialogue and capturing his voice. I'll get better at it!  
I know I'm getting into the character's heads a lot, but I promise the plot will pick up!

Loki did not eat. His stomach churned when he looked at the terrine. He could not remember the last time he’d eaten. He had become used to the dull ache in his stomach. It had once been hunger, he thought, his stomach constricting painfully around nothing. But now it was fear that filled his belly. There was no room for anything else.

So he did not eat.

Instead he tried to gather himself.

There was nowhere quite like Asgard, and no one quite like Asgardians, that challenged his composure so deeply. It was unsurprising, Loki thought, that the golden city, land of eternal sunshine, should shake his shadows so. In the bright glory of the Realm Eternal, Loki’s darkness had nowhere to flee. He could not help but stand out, a black gash against Asgard’s glory that burned like the sun. In its brilliance, his shadows burst violently from him, clawing for the darkness beneath, screaming for the Void from whence they’d come, bent on dragging Loki back down there with them, where he belonged.

He shivered and turned his mind from the Void, its emptiness roaring in his chest. He had seen worse. He had braved worse.

No, braved was not quite the word.

He had not been brave, not really.

Someone brave would not have cracked, broken as he did. Someone brave would have hauled themselves out, stood fast, _died_ rather than be torn asunder from the inside and made into something else – something desperately _wrong_.

He shut his eyes, evened his breathing which had become hitched and shallow. He had to gain control – _had to – _he had been _fine _on Midgard, he had wielded the scepter and had felt _power, _the fear squashed down underneath it, he had _hoped, _he had been _sure _that his plan would work. His mind, though maybe not all his own, was clearer than it had been since before his fall.

He had executed his plan with precision, and achieved all ends except the most important: he had lost both the Tesseract and the scepter. The loss had drained him of all strength, so much that it had been a relief when Thor had hauled him from Stark’s ruined floor and put steadying arms underneath him.

“_Loki, it’s over.”_

What had happened to his iron resolve? Why did he tremble now, when he had been so strong? Perhaps he was not as strong as he had thought. The scepter’s power had blinded him to how his body was already failing – how his _mind _was failing. But he had felt so sure of himself, even in the face of Thor’s begging.

“_You come home.”_

He could not.

There was an army of Chitauri to defeat and he needed Thor angry, needed him fighting on Midgard, needed him to _see _what Loki had seen in the Void and could not say.

But Thor had not seen anything but his brother. Loki back from the dead, but not really back at all. Loki trying to destroy another world.

_The Prince must slay the Beast. _

Loki strong – stronger than he’d ever been – and at once weaker, his thoughts strewn about him like they never had been, his emotions raw on his face for Thor to read like Loki had always tried to hide.

He should have known. He never had been able to weather the storm that was Thor.

His brother wanted him home, and so here he was.

Back on Asgard not two days and he was splintering. He had to collect himself. The pieces would not fit back together – not as they should – but he had to do it, however disfigured he would be in the end. This prison would not hold out the darkness forever, and he would have to be ready to face it. 

He was beginning to feel the effects of Sigyn’s numbing ointment and it was making him rather drowsy. He shifted, in order to keep himself from drifting off. His dreams were a precipice, and in them the Void yawned and swallowed him over and over. He was not able to endure it, not this hour.

In the dark there came the scuffing of boots and Loki raised his eyes to strain into the eerie green gloom. Surely the healer would not be back so soon. She had left lights circling above him and so he was shrouded in soft yellow light, all the easier for an enemy to see him, he thought, but it was not an enemy that approached, or at least, not the enemy that coiled and struck in Loki’s wild imagination.

And it was not Sigyn.

A lone Einherji crossed the cavern to him, holding a torch, and Loki straightened, his black tunic hanging loose from his shoulders where Sigyn had affixed it so as not to disturb the whip wounds. He kept his hands folded loosely in his lap, the chains sprawled over his knees and onto the floor. The Einherji stopped just short of the step on which Loki sat. He stiffened minutely, pressing his lips together. With a gaze that understood more than Loki would have liked, the soldier raised a hand and inclined his head just slightly.

“I am unarmed.”

Loki lifted his chin and said nothing. The soldier took slow steps forward, removing the bag from his shoulder.

“With your permission, my Prince,” he said, and set it down, taking from it another terrine, and a blanket. “It may stave off the damp, for a time….”

Loki ignored the blanket held out to him, so that the guard folded it and placed it gently beside him.

“You are the guard whom I am to thank for the use of my wrists,” Loki said at last, lifting them slightly in his lap. The chains scraped on the ground as he did so.

The soldier nodded minutely. Loki tried to get a good look at his face, but under his helmet it was shadowed.

“You needn’t have brought food.” Loki inclined his head toward Sigyn’s terrine and flask. “The Traitor-Prince has scarcely been here a day and already his allies flock to his side.” He smiled, a wan stretching of the lips.

The soldier set his terrine next to Sigyn’s, and lifted the lid of the latter.

“Will you not eat?” he asked, and when Loki gave no reply, set the lid down and clasped his hands.

Loki watched him, face carefully blank. There was something about him he recognized. If he could just _remember_. “Are you not afraid?” he murmured.

“Of you, my Prince?” the soldier asked, raising his eyes finally to meet Loki’s. He shook his head.

“I am unshackled,” Loki pointed out, his voice betraying none of his chagrin.

The Einherji smiled, if sadly. “I rather think you would not warn me, if you wished to attack me.”

“Perhaps I wish to escape.”

“You would not be able to access the stairs,” he said rather absently. “These wards - “ and he indicated the manacles, “will not allow you to leave this place.”

“So the chaining – the whipping - were simply for effect,” said Loki, “Designed to dishearten and inspire fear, that I may be easily managed.”

The Einherji had the audacity to look pained behind his helmet.

“And yet here you are, bringing me blankets like one of the afflicted at Sored Square. Tell me, soldier, why do you sympathize with the Traitor-Prince?”

The soldier gave no reply, simply cast his gaze to the piled chains.

“Have you not been told of my crimes?” Loki continued tonelessly, “My heritage? The cruelty my hands are capable of?”

The Einherji bent, then, and said, “Hands that are capable of kindness in equal measure.”

He lowered his helmet and lifted his head. Loki caught his breath.

Hazel eyes stared back at him, dark hair cropped short, though Loki remembered it long once, and a jagged scar that marred his right cheek.

“Svehn?” The name tumbled from his lips before he could stop himself.

Svehn smiled, a faint upturning of the lips, his eyes sorrowful. “My Prince.” 

Loki shook his head, heart turning over. “You don’t – you’ve never had to - “

Svehn reached for him as Loki lifted a shackled hand. Their finger tips brushed. Loki struggled to breathe round the lump in his throat. He withdrew his hand, feeling raw.

Svehn picked up the flask set next to Sigyn’s terrine. “If you will not eat, at least drink this.” He offered it to Loki and Loki took it, staring at him. 

“How did you… “ he faltered. “When did you return…?”

“Two years ago,” said Svehn quietly.

“And here you are,” laughed Loki breathlessly, “Serving in the Kingsguard. I didn’t think...”

“That they’d allow it?” Svehn said, amused. “I talked them round. Drink.”

Loki took a sip of Sigyn’s draught, if nothing else than to give his mouth something to do other than gape. He held the blanket out to Svehn.

“You should not come back,” he said flatly.

“I am one of the guards assigned to you, I have no choice in the matter, and grateful for it.”

“Then you must not bring me these things. Tyr will not hesitate - “

“I can handle Tyr. My Prince – Loki – I would do this.” 

Loki watched him. “There is no need. ”

"There is every need!” Svehn said, suddenly fierce, “I owe you a great debt - “

“Then I release you from it!” Loki exclaimed tersely, “Consider it paid in full, thrice over, Svehn – “

“My Prince -“

“_No!_” gritted Loki. “You don’t understand. You don’t know who you are talking to. I’m not the Loki you knew.”

“But you are Loki.”

Loki shook his head. “You should leave, Svehn, before they come back. I doubt they will leave me be for long.”

Svehn looked at him for a long moment, and when he spoke, his voice was soft, raw. “Loki, what happened, these long years?”

Loki turned blazing eyes on him, breaths uneven, and tried to maintain control. He lifted his chin. “It matters not. I am a traitor to the crown, now. There is no more to say of it.”

Svehn swallowed, searching his face and his eyes. After a moment, he picked up the iron rings cast to the floor by Sigyn.

"I must affix these again, before the General returns," he muttered, "But I will not affix them so high." And he pressed iron to stone, only a foot above Loki's head so that his arms yet lay in his lap, until the iron ring and the stone became enmeshed once more. Wisps of blue glowed beneath his finger tips and Loki's brow creased. 

"You became a sorcerer after all," he marveled.

Svehn smiled. "I did."

"How did you get into the Kingsguard, practicing magic like that?"

"It took some persuading," Svehn agreed.

He took the blanket and wrapped it around Loki’s shoulders, taking care around his wounds.

“I am sorry about the whip.”

“Were you the one to wield it?” Loki asked abruptly, and when Svehn shook his head - “Then don’t apologize. I will not have your pity.” He took a breath to steady himself. “Please, Svehn, leave.”

Svehn pressed his lips together, shoulders hunching. “I will go, then. But hear me, old friend, with what power I have, I will help you. If I can. As you did me all those years ago.”

Loki made no reply, simply gazed at a spot on the floor near Svehn’s knee.

He stood, giving Loki’s shoulder a light squeeze as he did, and turned back into the green gloam of the cavern. Loki exhaled, his chest all too tight.

_There is no help for me, old friend. _


	9. A Civil Conversation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Father,” said Thor, inclining his head. “I did not mean to disturb - “  
“You didn’t,” Odin said, leaning on Gungnir as he turned toward a bench set amongst the roses behind him. “Come, my boy, sit with me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The dust is beginning to settle, but it's still a mess. Someone new is arriving next chapter!

On his way back up to the Palace, Thor caught sight of Sif and the Warriors Three on the training grounds. Feeling guilty for not having given them news, he approached. They greeted him with broad smiles, all but Hogun who nodded in his grim way.

“Thor,” said Sif, clasping his forearm, “You’ve returned!”

“Only a night ago. It’s good to see you, my friends.” He smiled around at them. There was a pregnant pause before Fandral took a breath and said, “So, is it true?”

Sif and Volstagg each threw him a warning glance, but Hogun kept level eyes on Thor.

“I don’t know what you have heard,” Thor said slowly. “But I have brought my bro – I have brought Loki back, as the All-father commanded.”

“So he was on Midgard, then?” Volstagg looked oddly hopeful that Thor would deny it.

“He was.”

Volstagg’s face fell.

“What of the Chitauri?” Sif asked.

Thor did not answer immediately. Loki had attacked Earth with the Chituari, but saying it did not sound right, as though it had not yet been decided and speaking it aloud would set it in stone.

“They attacked Earth, in pursuit of the Tesseract,” Thor said at last. “I fought alongside the Avengers. There were few casualties.”

His friends listened with rapt attention as he relayed the details of the invasion. He lacked all his usual battle-bluster, his re-telling short and with little expression.

“You are grieved,” Hogun said when he fell silent. “You should rest.”

Thor met his eyes and for all Hogun’s severity, he saw compassion there.

“Where is Loki now?” blundered Fandral, receiving an elbow from Sif.

Thor glanced toward the Palace. “He is in Eitr Hol. He will remain there till his trial. I am to be his Keep.”

“His Keep?”

“Eitr Hol?”

Sif and Volstagg exclaimed at once, causing a nearby soldier to crane his neck in their direction.

"Ssh," said Fandral, careful not to catch the nearby soldier's eye.

“But Thor...” Volstagg said, searching his face, distressed. Hogun put a hand on his shoulder.

“My friends, the situation is… difficult. But I would stand by my brother, no matter what is to become of him.” He attempted a smile. It fell just short of a grimace. “I shall see you at supper?”

His friends nodded, clapped his shoulder and Sif gave him a one armed hug. He left them on the training grounds in a somber mood and entered the Palace via Frigga’s gardens. He climbed the sloping path through the orchards and came out on a green lawn hedged in by tumbling roses and day lilies. The silver-haired figure of his father standing near a rock arrangement brought him up short. Odin turned to look over his shoulder, his eye weary but not unwelcoming.

“Father,” said Thor, inclining his head. “I did not mean to disturb - “

“You didn’t,” Odin said, leaning on Gungnir as he turned toward a bench set among the roses behind him. “Come, my boy, sit with me.”

Thor felt his chest loosen a little and took a seat next to his father. Odin gave his shoulder a squeeze.

Thor took a breath. “Father, I know this is not easy for you, and I have been ill-considered. I’ve not behaved as I should, as a Prince of Asgard. I am sorry.” He forced himself to meet Odin’s gaze.

Odin shook his head. “Do not think on it. You did not get your legendary temper from your mother, after all.”

Thor blew out an amused breath. “No.”

Odin let his hand drop from Thor’s shoulder. Seated so close, Thor could see the tightness round his eyes, the tension in the lines of his face. He was grey-palloured, leaning heavily against the bench, the weight of the Nine visible on his shoulders.

“Thor,” - and it was not the voice of the King, but his father’s, low and weary - “This trial is one of many you will face when you are King, and it is all the more difficult because Loki is your brother.” He paused. “A good King does not rule with his staff alone, and the wisdom of his mind, but with his heart also, meting out justice and mercy where perhaps others would not. But he must also be able to rule _in spite_ of it, where it threatens the good of the Kingdom. You must be able to make that sacrifice, for them,” and he lifted his chin and looked out across Asgard’s sprawling city. “It is our duty,” and he looked back at Thor, aggrieved, “A duty you did not ask for, when your mother and I brought you into this world, but a duty you must accept.”

“Did I not swear to protect the Nine, Father?” Thor asked quietly. “I do not wish to break my oath. I am only grasping for what mercy a King can afford, because if there is mercy, I wish it for Loki, beyond anything I have wished for.”

Odin nodded and clasped Thor’s shoulder again.

“I would speak with you of what I saw on Midgard,” Thor said, “But perhaps when you are rested.”

Odin squeezed his shoulder. “We will speak of it, then. For now, help me up.”

Thor did, made slightly anxious by his father’s exhaustion. Odin bade him goodnight and Thor watched him leave. He counted it a victory that Odin had agreed to speak later. Realizing that he had not slept since his arrival, Thor made his way to his chambers, forgetting supper, and wishing only for the numbness of sleep.

~*~

Some distance below Thor’s chambers, Sigyn descended the stone stairs to Hyacinth Court, a nestling of sunny cottages clustered south of Frigga’s gardens, the residence of healers and what sorcerers there were in Asgard.

Eir had let her go early, on account of her nose gushing red for the fourth time that afternoon.

“What task has demanded so much of your strength?” Eir had asked, brow furrowed as she guided Sigyn to a chair.

“I’ve been practicing, and then did not sleep,” said Sigyn wearily. “It will mend.”

“Not if you don’t rest. Off with you, to bed at once.” And Eir had given her a sleeping draught and sent her home.

Sigyn picked her way through the overgrown cobbled pathways of the court till she reached her own cottage, pushing the door open and feeling relief wash over her as she stepped into the wide warm kitchen.

“Sigyn, my dear?”

Her father’s voice sounded from down the passage in the sitting room. Eron was a large man, if stooped, with silver hair and a large moustache. He had seen battle and been injured, and his health had declined steadily. But for all his history of battle, he was gentle.

“It’s me, Papa,” Sigyn called. “I’ll be through shortly.”

She set a kettle of water on the coal stove to boil. In her bedchamber she shucked her healer’s robes into a basket to be laundered and pulled a nightgown over her chemise. She returned to the kitchen to make a pot of tea, and handed her father a steaming cup with a kiss to his forehead. He sat in a mustard armchair near the window, a blanket over his lap. Sigyn studied his face and noted the colour in his cheeks with some relief. He had not been well. The last rays of sunshine were streaming in and she took the seat opposite him, leaning back in her chair and giving him a tired smile. His silver hair glimmered in the evening light and the lines of his face creased into a fond smile.

“I heard you come in this morning,” he told her, “You seemed in rather a hurry, and then you were gone again.”

“I was,” sighed Sigyn. “I was late yesterday evening – with a patient – and Eir had need of me at dawn.”

“The Palace is in a flurry, I expect,” Eron said with a nod toward the window. “With Prince Loki’s return.”

Sigyn nodded. “The news has been whispered all through the courts.”

“Yes,” he remarked, “Though I’ve yet to make sense of it.”

Sigyn sipped her tea and nodded in agreement. “I suspect it won’t be long before the truth comes out. Or, an official version of it, at least.” She watched the shadows deepen outside with a creased brow.

Eron chuckled quietly. “Indeed.” He set his tea cup down. “So, what was the trouble? With the patient?”

Sigyn took a breath, thinking of Loki in the cave far beneath Asgard’s throne, crumpling and clutching his head. She drained her tea cup.

“I don’t know,” she murmured at last, closing her eyes and folding her arms about her. She felt the edges of her mind softening with sleep. She thought vaguely that she should haul herself to her bed, but the effort of getting up proved too tiresome and so she allowed herself to fall to dreaming in her chair, only vaguely aware sometime later of a blanket being pulled under her chin.

“You shouldn’t get up,” she mumbled to her father.

He chuckled. “I prefer to sleep in a bed, thank you.”

She smiled without opening her eyes. “Goodnight, Papa.”

~*~

When Sigyn woke the following day it was well into the morning. She sat up slowly and looked about the living room where sunshine was streaming in through the open windows. She felt markedly better than the previous day. She folded the blanket her father had covered her with and busied herself in the kitchen with breakfast.

“There you are,” her father’s voice came from the doorway. He was leaning on a cane and smiling. “You are recovered, I hope?”

“I am,” Sigyn smiled back. “Eir’s sleeping draughts seem to cure just about anything.”

They sat down to breakfast together, Sigyn laying the table and setting a plate of fruits and fresh bread in front of Eron as he carefully lowered himself into his chair.

“How is your back today?” she asked over a mouthful of grapes. Eron grimaced.

“The same,” and then he smiled good naturedly, “Don’t think on it. I am managing quite well.”

Sigyn eyes him with a raised brow. “I’ll bring something back from the healing wing for the pain.”

“Are you going in today?” Eron asked, “I thought you should rest a little more.”

“I’m well enough to work, Papa. And I won’t be late.”

She got dressed after breakfast and donned a clean healer’s robe. Her father waved at her from the kitchen table as she left. The walk up to the Palace was pleasant. The sun was warm against her skin and there was a sweet smell on the air.

In the healing wing Eir was clearing out one of the storage rooms.

“Might I assist?” Sigyn said from the door.

“Back already?” Eir said, cocking an eyebrow.

“I’m well rested,” laughed Sigyn, “I promise you, Eir.”

Eir tutted. “Very well. I’m clearing this room for Master Fallon, one of the chief healers from Vanaheim. He’ll be arriving today and will need an office for what he’s going to be doing.”

“Vanaheim?” Sigyn repeated, “But how will he travel? The Bifrost is shattered.”

“Queen Frigga is well acquainted with the path between Asgard and Vanaheim,” said Eir conversationally. “Being from there herself.”

“Of course, but those paths are tricky to follow,” said Sigyn, taking a box from the shelf. “What is so urgent that he must travel like this?”

Eir’s face took on a vexed expression. “There is some sort of outbreak there,” she said, “A sort of pox, from what I hear. They’ve yet to find a cure and Master Fallon comes to Asgard to seek one. I should be very interested to see what he has discovered so far, though he’ll need screening.” She frowned thoughtfully and then shook her head. “He insists he doesn’t carry the infection, and I’m sure he’s honest enough, but in any case...”

Sigyn let Eir ramble on as they cleared the room. Her thoughts soon turned to Loki and the manacles binding his magic. She shuddered at the thought of her innate power being bound up so tight. Perhaps if she could get Eir on sides, the chief healer might be able to convince the King to remove them. But there was no easy way to explain the situation, nor her involvement besides, so she resolved to say nothing for the time being.

“He’ll be needing assistance from time to time,” Eir was saying, and Sigyn realized she had not been listening at all, “I hope you’ll avail yourself to him should he need anything.”

“Of course,” she said quickly. “Anything he needs.”

~*~

“Father, may we speak privately? With Mother?”

Thor had awoken early and gone in search of his parents, hoping to find them at breakfast in their quarters, but the King was already in the throne room and the Queen preparing for the arrival of a healer from Vanaheim. His father told him so and then asked him how he’d slept.

“Little,” Thor replied honestly. “My mind is weighed down. I would hear your thoughts on what I saw.”

Odin took his measure and then nodded. “Very well. Walk with me. We shall call on your Mother.”

She was supervising the preparation of a chamber in the guest wing of the Palace for their visitor. She smiled warmly on seeing Thor and gave his hand a squeeze.

“I will be with you shortly,” she said and turned to give final instructions to the servants.

They walked out to her gardens then, the three of them. Frigga took Odin’s arm and asked him how matters in court had progressed. It made Thor hopeful that there was less tension between them, though they had always been very good at setting their arguments in compartments which they would come back to later and deal with, sometimes with raised voices and almost always with Odin pinching the bridge of his nose as Frigga gave her truths in no uncertain terms. Thor hoped this conversation would go more smoothly. They reached a small courtyard within the gardens where often the four of them had taken meals together when the feasting hall had become too loud for more quiet family moments. It was at this table they took seats and Thor squared his jaw as he sat across from them and waited permission to speak.

“As you know, Heimdall has reported all he has seen of the events on Midgard,” Odin said matter-of-factly. “But we will hear your testimony also.”

Thor nodded. He began by recounting the events as they had happened, without comment on his brother’s behaviour or state of mind. Frigga listened, tight-lipped, finding the second telling of her younger sons downfall no easier than the first. Odin nodded where Heimdall’s testimony matched Thor’s but his brow flickered when Thor described their argument on the outcrop.

“He told me he’d seen things – other worlds – that we couldn’t imagine,” Thor said, “And I didn’t dwell on it at the time, but when I asked him who commanded him, he looked so afraid. He was worn out – I’ve never seen him so unwell. And later, when we battled on Stark’s tower, I told him we could yet stop the invasion and for a moment I thought he would agree – he looked at me as though seeing me for the first time.”

Odin studied Thor carefully.

“What I’m trying to say,” Thor blundered on, “Is that he was changed. Something has happened to him – in the Void – it’s – it’s as though his mind is split up and his wits scattered...”

“He commanded the Chitauri army well enough,” Odin said, but his tone was not argumentative.

“I don’t deny it,” said Thor helplessly, “But might we consider that there is more to be dealt with here than simply Loki’s thirst for power or vengeance?”

Frigga smiled softly at Thor, for all she was quiet. Odin sighed.

“He must have a trial, Thor - “

“Of course he must,” said Thor immediately, “I ask only that all evidence be taken into account in the duration.”

“The evidence is damning, my boy!" Odin said exasperatedly, "How am I to judge this as anything but treason?” And for all he was the King, Odin sounded like he was desperate for Thor to provide an answer.

“Would it be treason if he were coerced?” pressed Thor.

“Is there proof of that?” Frigga asked, voice carefully even.

“Not that I have here and now, but if we could investigate...” Thor sighed. “If he were given the chance to speak for himself – to tell us what happened - “

Odin sighed. “He will be given the chance. But you know as well as I that Loki never says what he means and never means what he says. The courts know it. We need evidence other than his testimony, and no one in the Nine Realms was there when he suffered in the Void.”

Thor jerked up to look at his father. “You agree then, that he suffered?”

“I do not doubt it, though I know not what befell him. I thought as much as you did that he had died. Though there are many things in the Void, none of them so kind as death.”

“Then you understand me,” Thor pleaded, “Father, enough suffering can bend any mind to madness. And we do not know for certain whether there was no one else there to witness his suffering. Think on it. The only truth we know is that none of _us_ were there to save him, when he needed us most.”

Frigga’s lips paled at Thor’s final entreaty. Odin sat silent, his shoulders pressed low. At last he let out a breath.

“He was vengeful and maddened before he fell.” He gave Thor a hard look. “His brief and disastrous rule is well known, however I tried to absolve him after his apparent death. The courts will not take his word – not on anything – and I’m telling you this, my boy, because the courts will decide his fate as much as I! As the King I cannot be partial to him, I cannot simply grant clemency because he is ours - “ and it seemed that his back bent under the weight of his words, “- and as the future ruler of Asgard you must be certain that you do not see only the parts of the truth that you _want _to see and disregard the rest because it suits you. Thor, hear me, I love Loki as you do, as your mother does, but he has committed treason twice, and I cannot change the laws of the Kingdom because he is my son, though my heart will be ripped asunder for it.”

Frigga raised glassy eyes to Thor. “He’s right, Thor. But so are you, I think. There is more at work here. Let us see what can be done to aid your brother,” - and she put a hand on Odin’s arm - “For he is not altogether lost to us yet. His trial is yet two weeks away.”

Thor nodded, heart heavy. He raised his eyes once more to meet his Father’s. “Permit me to see him, Father,” he asked softly. “I will not attempt to free him, or defy your orders. I wish only to see my brother.”

Odin was silent for a moment and then nodded, inclining his head to Frigga. “You are both free to see him. Though I would caution you against his wiles.”

Thor nodded again and stood. He kissed his mother’s forehead.

“Thank you for hearing me.”

They bade him a good day and he left the gardens, trying not to sprint, in the direction of the dungeons.


	10. Malady of the Mind

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thor shook his head. “I couldn’t let him destroy a whole planet. There was no way to stop it, so I took Mjolnir to the Bifrost and shattered it. In the explosion, we both fell. But Father caught us – or rather, he caught me."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thor and Loki's conversation does not go well.  
Promise there'll be more plot soon! Loki's a tough one to untangle, so its going to be a journey!  
Trigger warnings: reference to and description of fatal diseases, vague one time reference to experiments on cadavers.

The guards stood aside for Thor, as they had not done on his first foray to the dungeons. Whether Odin had notified Tyr of the permission granted, or whether he had simply sent the command forth with Gungnir, Thor was not sure, but he was relieved when the dungeon doors swung open for him. One of the guards pointed him in the direction of the stone door that led down into the dark beneath their feet.

“There’s a panel on the side,” explained the guard, “It is opened by blood rite. Have you a blade?”

Thor borrowed one from him and pressed the tip of the blade into his thumb, smearing it across the panel, heart thudding in his ears. He was old enough now to know that the stories he had been told of Eitr Hol were told to children to scare them into good behavior. For all that it had once been a torture chamber, it had not been used since before Bor’s reign. If there had once been a giant serpent in the depths beneath the castle, it was no longer there. But as anyone who has spent much time listening to fireside stories of great monsters, Thor could not help feeling anxious as he descended into the dark.

But it was not only the images of a legendary serpent that filled him with dread, but the knowledge that Loki had been down here for days, magic bound, at the mercy of his imagination. Thor remembered that Loki had often woken poorly, thrashing in his cot at unseen terrors, shivering and crying, and would not quiet unless Thor held him all night. His nightmares had abated as he had grown, or perhaps he had suffered them alone when they moved into their own chambers. Now, Thor thought, those nightmares were probably echoes from his trauma on the battlefield where Odin found him. Left in the dark, on icy stone. It was all too familiar down in this cave, and Thor was anxious that it would only traumatize Loki further.

When he came out into the wide cavern and saw him, pallid and soaked beneath the dripping ceiling and yellow werelights, he had to fight not to sprint across the stone to free him. Loki was nothing if not proud, and as far as Thor knew, still hated him, and so he forced himself to walk steadily, his heart constricting as he went.

Loki sat leaning heavily on his side, chained hands in his lap and chin resting on his shoulder. His raven hair was tangled and sticking to his neck. Thor was relieved to see he was not gagged. With a gesture, Thor stopped the dripping from the ceiling. Loki jerked up when he heard Thor’s heavy footfalls. A strange look passed like a shadow on his face as he glanced up to where the ceiling no longer rained down on him, and when he looked back at Thor, his face was a hard mask of ivory. Thor had not expected to feel so unsure, coming down here. Now that he stood in front of his brother, he found he did not know what to say. It was hard to think with his heart squeezed up in his chest like this. Loki shifted himself away from the stone, back straightening, though it seemed a great effort, and sneered.

“The Mighty Son of Odin. Have you come to gloat?”

Thor squared his jaw, but his heart shook.

Loki pulled his lips back. He looked like a savage wolf.

“You wanted me home, and here I am. The Odinson always gets what he wants.” And he looked around the cave dispassionately, as though he neither cared that he were imprisoned in it, nor that it existed at all.

“This is not what I wanted,” Thor said, finding his voice, and to his own ears it sounded rough and distant.

Loki’s eyes flashed. “Isn’t it?” he hissed. “You never saw a monster you didn’t want to slay! Well, here lies the monster! Well chained - “ He lifted his wrists with a snarl - “Will you not deliver justice, as you’ve sworn to do for the Nine?”

Thor swallowed, heart in his throat, “You’re not a monster.”

Loki leaned forward, slipping slightly on the rocks as he spat at Thor.

“I was _born _a monster. Though now I think of it, this is no fun! There’s no sport for you in slaying a beast already subjugated! If only you had done it in the heat of the battle on Midgard! What a victory that would have been for the Mighty Thor!”

Thor stared at him, horrified.

“I would find no pleasure in killing you, brother,” he said thickly, “Why do you - “

“Oh a swift death would not be justice, would it?” Loki ranted madly. “What justice could be meted out to Asgard’s greatest betrayer?” And he laughed, an ugly wracking sound. “So they have sent me where they send all the monsters. It remains only for the Prince to slay the Beast. Will you rise to meet your destiny, Thor Odinson?”

Thor fought to remain calm, Loki’s words gouging canyons in his heart as they always did. He wanted at once to scoop his brother up and flee from this place, and to leave him there to rot in his own venom.

“Stop this, Loki!“ he said angrily.

“No,” breathed Loki, and he was almost panting, wide wild eyes staring at Thor, blacker than the gloom around them. “The Prince must slay the Beast. Come Thor, as your Father taught you all our lives. You promised, did you not?”

Thor shook his head, chest constricting. “No,” he growled.

Loki squared his shoulders and affected a childish tone as he imitated a much younger, foolish Thor.

“When I’m King, I’ll hunt the monsters down and slay them all!” He laughed, and Thor shivered.

“Fulfill your promise, future _King, _the Monster of all Monsters lies yet before you!”

Thor took tentative steps toward him. He was failing with his words. Perhaps if he could reach out – but he stopped when Loki’s eyes flicked to Mjolnir and he licked his lips. Thor shook his head.

“No, Loki,” he said hoarsely, “I won’t harm you.”

Rage colored Loki’s face and he spat at Thor. “An Odinson unable to lift his weapon against an enemy! I at least am brave enough to face my destiny!”

“Your destiny is not to be slain by my hand!” shouted Thor, furious.

“Isn’t it?” Loki laughed, wretched. “And yet here I am, buried beneath your shining halls, waiting to be crushed under Odin’s golden heel, as it should have been, all those years ago.” And as he said it, his voice withered and he slumped, breathing heavily.

Thor watched him momentarily, trying to master the anguish in his chest. At last he knelt next to his brother and gripped his shoulders. Loki jerked as he did.

“You are not a monster, to be crushed beneath us. You are my brother. I wish to make things right, for you. For both of us.”

Loki lifted his eyes to look at Thor, and his face was grey now, exhaustion in his eyes. He was gaunt and shivering slightly, like a starved animal. Thor look to the terrines a few feet away and leaned over to check them. They lay untouched.

“Thor?” Loki sounded distant.

Thor turned back to him, gently grasping his shoulders again. Loki dropped his eyes and lifted a hand. “I don’t suppose you could take these off?” he asked absently. And before Thor could answer. “No. No I suppose not. You’d have to be here… and I’d have to be… “ He frowned, losing his train of thought.

Thor swallowed. He lifted Loki’s chin and cupped his cheek. “My brother,” he said softly. “What’s happened to you?”

Loki frowned, a look that hit Thor in the gut because it reminded him so much of a younger Loki, before everything had gone wrong, frowning at Thor when he’d said something impossibly ignorant, in his endearing way.

“I’m a Frost Giant, Thor,” Loki said as though it explained everything.

“You’ve always been a Frost Giant, Loki,” Thor said softly, “But you’ve not always been… like this.”

Loki laughed sadly. “Perhaps I was, and you didn’t see it. You never did see me, after all. It’s dark, in the shade of your greatness. Even your brilliance casts shadows in the world.”

“I never wanted you in my shadow,” Thor pleaded. “I wanted you at my side. If I ever made you feel -”

Loki’s face creased into a scowl. “Don’t come here and apologize!” he hissed, and then he lifted chained hands to rub his temples. “When will I be rid of you? I can never get you to _shut up!”_

Thor pressed his lips together.

“Please leave, for mercy’s sake,” Loki whispered.

“Brother - “

He jerked away. “When will you get it into your thick skull that _I __am not your brother__?!”_

Thor stiffened, dropping his hands from Loki’s shoulders. He stood. “I’ll come back tomorrow,” he said thickly.

Loki sighed, and looked for all the world like it was the last thing he could bear.

~*~

The Chief Healer of Vanaheim had arrived alone, and without fanfare, the Queen meeting him under the boughs of a great cherry tree, where she had set down a magical anchor to guide him across the stars. Heimdall stood with her, silent and sober as ever, and behind him, Sif and the Warriors Three.

Two senior healers took his coat from him as he blinked into existence under the tree, and a third threw a shimmering crystal dust into the air which immediately clung to Fallon and shone silver and blue, so that the healers nodded, satisfied that he was clear of the disease he had come to seek a cure for. The dust fell from him with a gesture of the third healer’s hand, and he stepped forward to greet his welcome party. Sigyn had been sent to await his arrival outside his chambers, and to escort him to the healing wing when he was ready. He was a man of medium height, with dark hair streaked silver, and a lined face. He had icy blue eyes and wore the traditional healer’s garb of Vanaheim. Sigyn studied him as he approached, Sif and The Warriors carrying what luggage he had brought with him.

“Master Fallon,” Sigyn greeted. “I’m to be your assistant while you’re here. Should you need anything -”

“Ah, thank you my dear,” Fallon said with a smile. “I’ve no doubt Eir is anxious to screen me herself. I’ll follow you down shortly.”

In the healing wing, Sigyn showed Fallon to his office. He was pleased with it, and set down a pile of books and a box which he’d insisted on carrying himself, though Sigyn offered multiple times.

“Nonsense, my dear, I’m perfectly able. Not as old as I look, I assure you!”

Eir had swept in, greeted Fallon politely and without warning showered him in crystal dust. When it shone silver and blue, she relaxed visibly and smiled.

“Well then, Master Fallon, welcome to Asgard. Tell us how we may assist you.”

Fallon took a sheaf of paper from one of his boxes and spread them out on his desk, beckoning for Eir and Sigyn to gather round.

“This is what we’re dealing with,” he said without prelude, “It’s a sort of pox, as I said. But it’s untreatable – it flares up within hours of being exposed to it, and patients are dead in a matter of days.”

Sigyn stared at the sketches on the papers he had laid out, disturbed. They depicted large boils, raised scaled skin, and open infected wounds.

“What have you tried so far?” Eir asked, frowning down at the sketches.

“Everything,” sighed Fallon. “All the treatments for every kind of pox, fungal pastes – we’ve even experimented with Oaura poison.”

Eir raised her eyebrows. “How did you hope to treat it with Oaura poison?”

“We thought,” Fallon explained, hands spread, “That if we could channel the poison to the disease, and keep it from infecting the body, that it would kill the pox. But then - “ and he frowned, tapping the sketches in front of him - “instead of killing it, it seemed to _feed_ it. Obviously we went no further with those experiments.”

“And the patients? Whom you experimented on?” Sigyn could not help but ask, feeling slightly ill.

“Oh, they were dead already,” Fallon said with a grimace. “We wouldn’t have tried on living patients.”

Sigyn breathed, not sure if she was relieved or further nauseated.

“Yes. It’s unlike anything I’ve ever seen.” And for all his discomfit, he seemed strangely in awe of the impossible problem in front of him.

“I do apologize,” he said hastily, “I don’t mean to be macabre. I’m at the end of my tether with it.”

“How many have you lost?” Eir asked gently.

Fallon looked up, and a shadow passed over his face. “46, in 21 days.”

Sigyn shook her head. “How does it spread? Can you contain it?”

“We’re trying. The afflicted are quarantined in a separate building, a way away from the Castle. The healers wear protective clothing, and no one is allowed in or out. But new cases are reported daily, and then we have to investigate and find all the infected and bring them back to the quarantined wing.”

“Well,” said Eir, straightening her spine, “We will do our utmost. Give me what notes you have, and I will begin research of my own.”

~*~

It turned out that Master Fallon did not need much assistance. He left Sigyn to carry out her duties as usual, and only some time in the late afternoon called on her to collect some books from the library. She quickly obliged and made her way there, her thoughts occupied with the sketches strewn across his desk. She went straight to the medical section where green-robed healers flitted between the shelves and held conference at the writing desks. What she had not expected to see was golden hair and broad shoulders pacing irritably up and down the section dedicated to maladies of the mind.

“Thor?” Sigyn asked, surprised.

He snapped the book shut that he was paging through and relief flooded his face. “Sigyn. I’m no good at this. Where can I find something on curses – curses of the mind?”

Sigyn frowned as she came to stand near him. “This whole section is dedicated to mind maladies. Curses wouldn’t appear in the healing section – you’d have to look in the dark arts side.”

Thor’s shoulders slumped. Sigyn smiled.

“Come on, I’ll help you.” She led the way across the main chamber and through a wide passage to the east wing of the library which was mercifully deserted. They came into a wide room with large windows overlooking the courts below. There were chairs and desks pushed along the walls and toward the back of the room, Sigyn found the shelves dedicated to arcane magics and dark practices.

“What sort of curses are you looking for?”

“I don’t know,” sighed Thor, rubbing his neck. “It’s - “

“Loki?”

He nodded, looking worn out.

“How is he?” asked Sigyn,

“He is not himself. Or at least, not all the time.”

Sigyn gestured to the shelves. “This will likely have some information. If you like, I can help you research, when I finish in the wing.”

“Please,” said Thor, “I was never much good at this. It was always Loki’s area of expertise. Books and reading and studying.” He shook his head fondly.

“What happened, Thor?” asked Sigyn carefully. “All of Asgard believed Prince Loki lost to the Void.”

A pained look crossed Thor’s face. “So did I.”

He sank into a chair near the window and put his head in his hands. “What do you know of my brother?” he asked.

Sigyn sat across from him. “That he was quiet, gifted in magic, and not given to drinking and chasing women at feasts.”

Thor seemed rather surprised at this rather more positive assessment of his brother, his brows raising as he looked back up at Sigyn. She was well aware that the younger Prince was also known throughout the courts as Silvertongue, the Trickster, and cunning. But the stories of a Prince being hauled out of a mead-hall after a brawl or flipping entire feast tables in a tantrum had not been about Loki. She had not met the Raven-haired Prince, and rather thought he should have the chance to make an impression before she believed what the courts said of him.

Thor’s expression had turned fond.

“He was all those things,” he said softly. “But he was also jealous, and bitter. He carried hurt, and burdens, I did not see. And so when I was to be crowned, he – well, he did not think I was ready.” Thor paused, brow furrowing. “You heard of the attack? During my coronation?”

“Frost Giants?”

Thor nodded. “I was so angry. And foolish. Loki told me not to go to Jotunheim, but I think really he was goading me. It was ever his way, to plant ideas in the heads of others and make them think it was their own idea, all the while advising them the right course of action, knowing full well they would not take it once they’d been goaded to passion. At least, it always worked on me. I invaded Jotunheim against my father’s orders. My banishment is common knowledge, I think.”

Sigyn nodded.

“Anyway,” continued Thor, “While I was gone, Loki - “ and here he floundered again, as though there were a part of the story he kept needing to avoid - “- he had an argument with Father, and Father fell into the Odinsleep. I think – I think he did not mean for me to be banished, and the shock of it, and his fight with Odin, left him unstable. He thought he could take the chance to prove himself – with me gone, there was no shadow, you see...” And now he seemed to be talking to himself, fingers twisting tightly round a strand of black hair that Sigyn had only just noticed woven into his own braid.

“He lied, like he always does. Told me Father was dead and it was all my fault. He went mad, Sigyn, it’s all I can think,” Thor said lifting his eyes to hers. “We fought, on Midgard. He sent the Destroyer after me, and Sif, and the Warriors Three. I knew then how I’d failed. Laufey arrived after that and attacked. Loki killed him and… in his rage and… madness.. he turned the Bifrost on them.”

Sigyn let out a breath. “Not a malfunction, then.”

Thor shook his head. “When he fell from the Bifrost, Father did not want him remembered as a criminal. He felt it was his failure alone that led him to such madness. But there were those who knew the truth and it has spread, as I’m sure you’ve heard.”

“I had heard, though most rumors were that Loki was a Frost Giant, living in the Palace in disguise all these years, waiting for the right moment to strike and take power from the royal family. With you banished and Odin asleep, he had only to challenge the Queen.”

Thor looked grim. He leaned back and looked out of the window. After a moment he scrubbed his face, exhaustion in all the lines round his eyes.

“Loki is a Frost Giant,” he said at last. “But he did not live in disguise, waiting to usurp the throne. He was rescued from the battlefields of Jotunheim centuries ago. We were raised as brothers.”

Thor was searching Sigyn’s face, though for what she couldn’t tell.

“He didn’t know until I was banished. That was the argument he and Father had.”

Sigyn let out a breath. “It’s no wonder he fell apart,” she said quietly. “With Asgard’s history...”

Thor grimaced. “And a brother who spent the better part of our childhood threatening to hunt the monsters down and slay them all.” He spat the words, voice dripping self-disgust, remembering the wild hunted look in Loki’s eyes from that morning’s visit.

Sigyn’s brow creased and she reached for Thor’s hand. “Stop it.”

He raised troubled eyes to hers. “What?”

“Blaming yourself. What’s done is done. You knew no better than he did. For all you knew, he was your blood brother and you loved him.”

Thor nodded. “I would take it all back, if I could.”

Sigyn squeezed his hand. “How did he fall?” she asked softly.

Thor shook his head. “I couldn’t let him destroy a whole planet. There was no way to stop it, so I took Mjolnir to the Bifrost and shattered it. In the explosion, we both fell. But Father caught us – or rather, he caught me. Loki was holding Gungnir and I tried to pull him up – if I’d only had another moment – but he wasn’t looking at me. He had only eyes for Father. And Father told him ‘No.’” Thor sighed and then continued. “’No Loki.’… He let go.”

Sigyn’s throat had closed. She swallowed and held Thor’s hand tightly. “That was his choice. Not your failure.”

Thor shook his head, eyes glassy. He sniffed. “It was all my failure.” He looked up at her. “Do you have siblings?”

Sigyn shook her head.

He smiled sadly. “I’m the oldest. I’m supposed to protect him.” He shook his head. “Something happened to him in the Void, Sigyn. And if I don’t find out what it was, he’ll be executed for treason. I failed him then, and I have failed him every day since he fell. I have to do this. I have to save him now.”


	11. Hallucinations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “My Queen, is everything well?”
> 
> “No,” she said, “Take me to Eitr Hol. My son calls for my aid.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can almost start progressing with the plot now!! *Almost!*

When Sigyn returned to the library later that night, it was to find the apprentices lighting lamps along the walls, and Thor slumped in his chair, asleep. His golden hair was mussed, falling carelessly about his shoulders. Sigyn’s eyes snagged on the ebony strand braided into his hair. Like this, with the lines round his eyes smoothed out, the raven lock of Loki’s hair was the only indicator of the difficulties he was facing. He looked, otherwise, as he ever had: their Golden Prince: strong, secure in his power, brave. Sigyn left him sleeping and quietly pulled tome after tome from the shelves, setting them softly on the table. When she had a sizable pile, she settled into a chair across from Thor and began reading.

The first book she had chosen was one identifying different spells used to access a person’s mind. There were many, and all appeared to allow the caster to open a mind and see what was inside. The results of such rifling often left victims with temporary amnesia, and bad headaches. She ploughed through the book, looking for more severe cases, thinking of Loki’s fit several nights previously.

She was halfway through the third book – a far more promising volume on mind control – when an apprentice approached.

“I beg your pardon, miss,” he said quietly, glancing at the sleeping prince. “I’m to bed shortly. Will you or his Highness be needing anything?”

Sigyn looked at Thor, fast asleep. She didn’t know if she’d be able to wake him later.

“Do you have a blanket? For Prince Thor? I fear he won’t wake tonight.”

The apprentice nodded and disappeared. He returned shortly with two thick woolen blankets. She took them from him. “Thank you.”

He bid her good night. She shook out one of the blankets and leaned carefully over the sleeping prince, tucking it gently around him. With a jerk, he came awake, grabbing her wrists in a vice. She yelped.

“It’s just me!” she said urgently, and laughed a little in relief as recognition flickered in his eyes. “It’s Sigyn. You fell asleep.”

He let her go. “I’m sorry,” he said, voice rough with sleep. “Did I hurt you?”

“It’s alright. I’m sorry I woke you. You looked cold.” She took her seat again and wrapped the second blanket around herself.

He glanced apologetically at her wrists. "Sorry."

"I'm fine, Thor."

“How many of those have you read?” he asked pulling his blanket tightly around him.

“This is the third,” she said, pushing one she hadn’t read across the table to him. “It looks promising.”

He looked at her questioningly.

“Well,” she said, “It’s awful. But it’s about mind control. There are spells in here that can be used to open the mind, and plant an anchor there, so that you don’t even need to be present or touching the victim to open their mind and play with it.”

“You think Loki is being controlled by someone? From a distance?”

“I don’t know,” said Sigyn. “The fit he had when I was down there – he seemed to be hallucinating. Talking to someone who wasn’t there. That doesn’t necessarily mean he’s been enthralled, but all the more common mind magic doesn’t leave victims in such a state.”

Thor let out a breath and opened the book Sigyn had slid over to him.

They read in silence, Thor yawning and rubbing his eyes, but steadily working through the book, and Sigyn taking turns reading and studying the prince across the table from her.

He was compelling, she thought. It was rather encouraging to think that their future King had such vast capacity for compassion. That Loki had betrayed him several times was obvious, but he never spoke of him as though he were a traitor. Simply took all the blame on his own big shoulders and insisted on putting it right. As he pored over the book he twisted his fingers in his hair, the braids twisting gold and ebony about his fingers, brow furrowed and tongue pressed between his pink lips. Sigyn tried to picture the All-father agonizing over the mental state of a loved one in the library, with teetering piles of books spread around him. Somehow, she could picture the Queen doing it, of course Loki – he seemed the bookworm type – but not Odin. It was a credit to Frigga then, that her son had grown up to be compassionate. Though Thor had not always been this way. Sigyn wondered what it had been like for Loki, the quieter and more reserved brother, trying to keep up with Thor’s glowing confidence and bounding energy. The Thor that sat in front of her had significantly less of both those things. Thor had learned to take responsibility for his temper and his actions. Sigyn thought that perhaps Loki, who had maintained such perfect control for years, had never had space to rage as Thor did. Perhaps that was why he seemed so unbalanced now.

The door to the east chamber banged open and Sigyn jumped, both she and Thor jerking to see one of the Einherjar marching to them.

“Your Highness,” he said, and his voice was calm for all that he had rushed in, “The Queen calls you to Eitr Hol.”

~*~

Frigga had woken with something strange tugging at her thoughts. Her disquiet only increased when she thought she could hear crying – crying she had not heard since Loki would wake as a boy, in the throes of a nightmare. She sat up, slipping quietly from the bed she shared with the All-father, pulling on a gown and shoes and stepping out onto the balcony so she could take hold of the thread tugging at her and follow it. As she wrapped tendrils of her seidr round the thread and tugged back, she heard a piercing scream and an agonizing jolt of pain hit her square in the chest.

“Loki!”

She left the room in a blink, appearing in front of the guards at the dungeon doors. They leaped back.

“My Queen, is everything well?”

“No,” she said, “Take me to Eitr Hol. My son calls for my aid.”

They did not hesitate. She followed them down the stairs with feet as light as gossamer, and drawing a pin from her hair, pierced her finger to open the stone door. She threw out bright golden light so that the whole staircase lit up and descended.

In the middle of the cave, Loki was screaming.

He yanked against his chains, staggering and tripping as he tried to get free.

“No _no no no! Please!”_ he wailed. “I _swear_ to you – I will – I will _kill them!”_

The guards at Frigga’s heels raised their spears but Frigga sent the weapons clattering across the cavern behind them with a gesture. “Stand down,” she commanded. “He is no danger to me.”

“My Queen,” protested the first.

“We are obligated to protect you,” said the second.

“Remain where you stand,” she ordered and hurried to her son.

Loki did not see her. His eyes were fixed on the black above the stone, wide and full of terror.

“I _promise,” _he panted, “I _swear it to you!_ Please! Don’t - “

“Loki!” Frigga called, keeping a distance of several feet. “Listen to my voice, my son.”

But Loki thrashed wildly, and with a sickly crack his arm twisted, his wrist snapping. He barely noticed it, continuing to scream in agony, as though something were burning him alive.

“Summon Thor!” Frigga commanded the guards, and the first took off up the stairway.

“Loki,” Frigga said, so softly that he couldn’t possibly hear above his own screaming. But he jerked as she called his name. She spoke softly, calling him to the present with her magic, and as he subsided she approached slowly. When she was close enough, she put a hand on his arm, and he jerked around to look at her, noticing her for the first time.

His face crumpled.

“Amma...”

“My son,” she said gently. He dropped to his knees, wrist cradled in his lap. She knelt and with a touch unlocked the manacles, gently removing the first from his broken wrist, and then the other. She tossed them aside as Sigyn had tossed the gag. He looked up at her, drained and eyes hollow.

“What’s happened to me?” he croaked.

Frigga took his head in her hands. “Ssh, sleep now.” And she whispered words over him and he sagged forward into her lap.

~*~

Thor had summoned Mjolnir before the guard had finished his sentence. He hauled Sigyn to his side, an enormous arm holding her against him, and with a step and a crack of lightening he transported them to the dungeons. Sigyn gasped and staggered as they landed.

“I didn’t know you could do that,” she said hoarsely.

“It took practice,” Thor said as they descended to the platform below and opened the door to Eitr Hol.

When they arrived, Frigga was singing softly, cradling Loki’s head in her lap. His dark hair spread in damp twists over her skirts. She quieted when Thor rushed to her side, dropping to his knees.

“Mother! What’s happened?”

“Oh Thor,” Frigga said, composure slipping a little. “Your brother is not well. Bring him up to tier 3 for me. He won’t wake.”

Thor put steady arms beneath his brother and lifted him like a child, his head resting against Thor’s chest. Sigyn stood a short distance away, unsure if she should be here or not, but unable to leave, her heart in her throat as she watched Frigga tuck Loki’s arm against his chest. She turned eyes on Sigyn a moment later.

“Oh, Sigyn, it is well that you are here. Would you fetch Eir for me? Loki needs seeing to. Tell her he has broken a wrist as well.”

“Yes, my Queen,” said Sigyn at once, and left for the healing rooms.

Thor carried Loki up the stairs, flanked by Einherjar, and the Queen leading the way. They came to tier 3 and the guards let them through without question. A magical barrier on a cell at the end of the last corridor flickered open at a gesture from Frigga, and with a flourish of her wrist the furnishings of the cell morphed so that the bed was spread with white sheets, emerald blankets and soft pillows. Thor laid his brother down carefully. Fast asleep, he looked younger than ever. It put Thor’s heart in his throat as he smoothed Loki’s brow and pressed a kiss to it.

“What happened, Mother?” he asked, unsure if he wanted to hear the answer.

“He called to me,” she said, “I woke with his magic tugging at me. I found him screaming, as though he were being tortured.”

Thor grimaced. Frigga summoned a chair to Loki’s bedside and sat, running her fingers through his hair and murmuring things Thor couldn’t hear. He stood aside and waited for the healers to arrive.

Eir arrived in a sweeping of skirts, concern writ in all her features, followed closely by Sigyn, and a man with silver streaked hair that Thor had not met.

“My Queen, what ails him?” Eir said, eyes falling to Loki unconscious on the cot.

“I do not know,” Frigga said, “Would you assist me, Eir? I need to examine him.”

Eir drew a chair to the other side of the bed and placed a hand on Loki’s forehead. Together they murmured over him and Thor could not make out the words. Sigyn and Thor watched apprehensively. Behind them, one of the guards shifted and Sigyn turned, recognizing him as the one who had claimed himself a friend of the prince. He inclined his head slightly in acknowledgment.

Momentarily, Loki began to stir, brow furrowing and green light sparking at his fingers.

“Ssh,” Frigga murmured. “You’re safe, my boy.”

But he began to whine and claw at his sheets, so Eir stilled her murmuring and shook her head.

“He has warded himself,” she said, “I cannot see the root of the illness.”

“Nor I,” said Frigga, brow furrowed. “And I would not put those manacles back on him now.”

“Perhaps – Master Fallon has had some experience with illnesses of the mind,” Eir suggested. “Perhaps he could assist?”

Frigga looked to the man who Thor now recognized as the Chief Healer of Vanaheim who has arrived but that morning.

“If he is warded against even yourself, my Queen, I doubt I will have more success. But I can try to get a sense of the issue.” And he came to stand over Loki, placing a hand to his forehead. He began murmuring in the language of the Vanir, and Thor watched apprehensively. Loki’s eyes fluttered but he did not wake. Presently, he began to whine.

“No….Please stop..._please_...” His voice was quiet, pleading, and ended in a hitched sob. Fallon drew his hand away, frowning. “His wards are strong. I don’t want to force my way into his mind. He appears to be hallucinating, to my eye. If what I know of his recent history is true, this is to be expected. One does not survive the Great Abyss without some injury. Perhaps all he needs is time to heal. An examination can be conducted when he is more recovered and can be persuaded to allow it.”

Frigga sighed and nodded her assent.

“Sigyn, my dear,” said Eir softly, “Bring me those bindings.”

Sigyn brought them to her and assisted in setting Loki’s broken wrist.

“There are whip wounds on his back,” Sigyn said quietly. “I stitched them up, but they need to be checked for infection.”

Frigga gave her an appreciative smile. “Thank you, Sigyn. Thor, would you help me.”

Thor came forward and helped to turn Loki onto his side. With quick and gentle hands Eir removed his tunic, revealing long lashes across his back. The red gashes stood out angrily against his ivory skin. Thor felt his blood boil to look at them. He watched as Eir smeared a healing ointment over the wounds.

“Thank you, Eir,” Frigga said when they had finally covered Loki with a blanket and Eir stood.

“My Queen,” said Eir. “If you wish for me to remain on call - ?”

“I would appreciate that,” Frigga said tiredly. “I will send for you, if I have need.”

“I, too, am at your disposal,” Fallon said, inclining his head. “I will mix a draught tonight for him. Something to calm him when he wakes.”

“I thank you,” said Frigga. As Eir and Fallon left she turned to the guard behind Thor and Sigyn.

“Svehn,” she said softly, “Could I ask you to keep watch tonight? I will be here, but I would be more at ease if someone quick on their feet were able to summon assistance, should he wake poorly.”

The guard stepped forward and bowed. “Of course, your Grace.”

Thor’s mouth fell open a little as he looked at Svehn. Svehn did not meet his eyes. He took his position just outside of the cell, the magical barrier not yet back in place.

“Thor, my darling, you look exhausted. Get some rest. Come and see your brother in the morning.”

“But, Mother, I should stay with you - “

“No, leave Loki to me tonight. It’s not the first time I have soothed his nightmares and I have been kept from his side for too long now.”

Thor hesitated, looking between his mother and brother. “But...”

Frigga smiled and got up, coming to put her arms round him. “You are weary, my beautiful strong boy. Please get some rest. Your brother needs us strong, for the days ahead.”

“Alright Mother,” relented Thor, hugging her tightly. Sigyn fidgeted. The Queen turned to her after a moment.

“Sigyn, would you give Thor something to help him sleep, my dear, if I could beg another hour of your time for my sons.”

“Of course, my Queen,” Sigyn agreed.

Frigga returned to Loki’s bedside, and Sigyn put a hand on Thor’s arm.

“They’ll be alright,” she said gently. Thor gave them a last look and followed Sigyn out of the cell, the magical barrier flickering into place at Frigga’s gesture. As they passed the guard called Svehn, Thor stopped and looked at him with a strange expression.

“I didn’t recognize you, Svehn.”

Svehn inclined his head. “My Prince.”

"I wish to know who took the whip to my brother."

Svehn's gaze was inscrutable and then his lip curled. "He is presently in the healing wing with a splintered rib cage, your Highness."

Thor raised an eyebrow. He looked as though he wanted to say more, but Sigyn tugged lightly on his arm. “It’s late, Thor.”

And Thor followed without another word.

They climbed the stairs out of the dungeons and crossed the great courtroom floor. The halls were deserted and by the seat of the moon it was well past midnight. Sigyn yawned. Thor turned to her.

“Sigyn, I’ve asked far too much of you,” he said apologetically, “I won’t call on you again for this.”

Sigyn frowned at him. “I think it’s rather too late,” she said. “I’m involved now. And you need a friend.”

Thor looked at her helplessly. “I would not ask you to weather this with me, Sigyn. It is a great burden.”

“Then you need shoulders to share it,” she answered. “Broad as yours may be.”

“Let me see you home,” he said as they reached the entrance to the outside courts. “I can sleep without a draught.”

Sigyn smiled. “I can mix one at home. Thank you.”

Thor took her arm and they walked in silence down to the Hyacinth Cottages. The moon shone down in great pearly swathes across the cobbled pathways. The shadows against that pearly light made her think of Loki, trapped in his nightmares in the dungeons, and her heart turned over. As they reached her doorstep, she turned to Thor and found the same troubled expression on his face. She unlocked the door and stepped inside quietly.

“Come in a moment, while I mix the draught.”

Thor followed her into the kitchen. She pulled ingredients from a drawer, taking care to be quiet.

Thor looked around the room. It’s yellow walls and wooden cabinets made it homely and comforting. It reminded him a little of Midgard.

“Sigyn? Is that you?”

Sigyn turned to glance in the direction of the passage. “Yes, Papa. I’ll be a minute. Can I bring you something?”

“Not to worry, my girl.”

Thor bit his lip. “I hadn’t asked you about your parents,” he murmured, and Sigyn wanted to laugh at his obvious trepidation.

“I live with my father,” she murmured back. “His name is Eron. My mother passed, some summers ago.”

Thor’s brow creased. “I’m sorry.”

Sigyn set a pot on the stove. “It won’t be a minute,” she said.

“Sigyn - “

Her father shuffled into the kitchen, and his eyes fell on Thor.

“Your Highness,” he said, not masking his surprise.

“My lord Eron,” said Thor, abashed, “I’m sorry to intrude so late – I – I wished to see Sigyn safely home – and she -”

“I insist on preparing him a sleeping draught,” Sigyn supplied with an amused grin. “Or else face Queen Frigga’s ire.”

“I thank you,” said Eron, “I had waited for her to return. An old man’s anxious habit.”

“Oh, Papa,” said Sigyn apologetically.

“My apologies, Lord Eron, I’m to blame. It won’t happen again - “

“Don’t fret,” Eron chuckled. “I trust things are well, Sigyn?”

Sigyn smiled, if tiredly. “Yes, Papa.”

“You’re most welcome, then, my Prince,” Eron smiled. “Sigyn, won’t you hand me my flask?”

Sigyn took a flask of water from the counter next to her and pressed a kiss to his cheek as he bade them both goodnight. She waited till he’d left the room and then let out a quiet, amused laugh.

“What?” said Thor, watching apprehensively down the passage.

“The Crown Prince of Asgard nervous of being discovered out late at night with a girl.”

He rolled his eyes. “I am not nervous!”

Sigyn laughed and handed him a flask filled with her sleeping draught.

“Drink it when you get to bed.”

“Thank you,” he said softly. “For everything.”

“You’re welcome, Thor. Now, to bed, with both of us.”

She opened the door for him and he departed, flask in hand.

She pulled off her healer’s robes and collapsed into her bed, her thoughts sinking beneath the ground to the dungeons, raven hair against stark white sheets weaving in and out of her dreams.


	12. Hope Yet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I’m sorry I lost all your horses, Father. I tried to get them all back but… well, this is Sleipnir. He’s the fastest horse in Asgard. I’m sorry Father.” Odin finished, repeating his son’s apology word for word. He sighed. “Frigga, this is not like letting loose the cavalry’s horses.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a little short, a lot of angst. But I needed to get the three of them to a point where they could start healing, together. So things should move along a little faster after this.  
I hope.   
I'm a sucker for all the feels!!!!!!  
P.S. I think I'm pretty horrible at posting warnings, but I'll do my best to go back through and add them!!

Odin All-father came awake all at once. He touched the empty sheets next to him, cold against his fingers, and rose. He summoned Gungnir and went in search of his wife, knowing his path led to the dungeons. His heart hung heavy in his breast and he turned the image of his youngest son over and over in his mind. Over the centuries, he had learned that it was not a weakness to be afraid, and oft on the battlefield had admitted it to his generals, drawing strength from their camaraderie. He had also learned, in rare moments of vulnerability, to admit his fears to his wife. But the fear he felt now, mixed with guilt and grief, was an impossible weight in his chest and it made every step toward the dungeons a trial.

The guards bowed as he passed. He walked with squared shoulders down the corridor of tier 3, stopping several paces from the last cell, to see a sleeping figure on a cot swathed in green, ebony hair spread across the sheets, and Frigga holding his hand in her lap.

He touched the barrier with Gungnir and stepped through. Frigga did not look up. He left Gungnir to stand against the wall and came slowly to stand on the other side of the bed, allowing his eyes to fall for the first time on his youngest son’s pale face. There were dark smudges beneath his eyes. Marks that had not been there when Odin had last seen him marred his right cheek and his forehead. His brow creased as Odin watched him, and he stirred, anxiety writ in all the lines of his face. He whimpered. Odin reached instinctively to touch his cheek, and Loki relaxed, leaning into the touch, brow smoothing over. Odin’s throat closed up. He lowered himself into the chair near the bed and raised his eyes to find Frigga watching him.

“He looks to you for comfort still,” she murmured.

“You have always known him better than I,” Odin said quietly. “Thousands of years old and still I cannot decipher the puzzle that is Loki.”

Frigga brushed her knuckles over Loki’s cheek. “Do you remember when he brought Sleipnir home?”

Odin let out a quiet breath. “How could I forget.”

Frigga smiled. “He’d been missing three days. I remember I was inconsolable. You left the Centennial War Council on Niflheim to come back and search for him.”

“I thought he’d run away,” said Odin, gazing at his sleeping son. “I’d been too harsh after he let all those horses out of the stables. I told him he was selfish and wicked.” The words had tasted like bile in his mouth when he’d said them all those centuries ago, and they were all the more bitter now.

“He was full of scrapes and bruises when he came stumbling up through the city gates, leading that ridiculous horse,” Frigga went on, “And you were so relieved you ran to him and shook him. ‘Where have you been?’ You asked him. ‘What have you done?’”

“I’m sorry I lost all your horses, Father. I tried to get them all back but… well, this is Sleipnir. He’s the fastest horse in Asgard. I’m sorry Father.” Odin finished, repeating his son’s apology word for word. He sighed. “Frigga, this is not like letting loose the cavalry’s horses.”

Frigga shook her head. “No. But why did he let them loose?”

Odin looked back down at Loki.

“I forbid him from riding out to Niflheim with me. He was too young. I took Thor instead.”

“And do you remember how Thor pleaded to stay? He was afraid of horses, then. He didn’t want to face the mountains of Niflheim so unsteady in the saddle.”

Odin scrubbed his face.

“You do not need to tell me how I have failed,” he said hoarsely. “I feel the weight of it with every breath.”

Frigga let go of Loki’s hand and came around the bed to sit on her husband’s knee.

“I do not recall these memories to highlight your failure, but to remind you that Loki has ever sought your approval, and even when his methods swayed to madness, his intentions were ever to please you. And when he did not, when he was cruel or bitter, it was always because he felt he had failed you before he started.”

Odin put his arms round his wife. “I took him to Niflheim that spring,” he murmured. “He made such an impression on the courts with his knowledge of their history and traditions that they agreed to open trade to the south kingdoms where we had not had access before.”

Frigga nodded, pressing a kiss to his forehead. “There is yet hope for our son, Odin,” she whispered. “There is a way to put this right.”

Odin took her hand and kissed it. “I do not know the way,” he said, and his voice wavered. “I am weary in my bones.”

“Then rest,” said Frigga. “And visit your son in the morning. You will find the truth in him, as ever you did when he was a child and wayward, seeking in his own strange way to prove himself to you.” She got up then, and returned to her chair, taking Loki’s hand again and began singing softly to him. Odin stood, kissing her golden hair before he departed, and returned to their chambers, the weight in his chest not gone, but shifted somewhat.

~*~

Loki was not sure whether he was awake or not. His body felt impossibly light. It was almost euphoric, not feeling the ache in his bones, or the dull throb behind his eyes. He didn’t want to move. The moment he moved it would all be over. Already, dread pooled in the pit of his stomach. He tried to hold the stillness, pulling it like a blanket over his mind, but already he could feel his fingers trembling, waiting for the searing pain in his head. He tried to control his breathing, but the more he tried, the more uneven it got. He could not get enough oxygen. When would they kill him and be _done_ with it? He squeezed his eyes shut to stop from opening them, terrified of what he would see, and his shoulders began to shake with stifled sobs, for all he tried to control them.

“Sshh.”

He jerked as soft hands cupped his cheek and smoothed back his hair. He shivered, opening his eyes in spite of himself, to see his Mother leaning over him, smiling sadly. He cringed away. He would have taken the blinding pain over these shades. They took pleasure in this, in tearing through his soul to the most sensitive parts and exposing them over and over again until he sobbed for home and all he’d lost.

“It’s alright, Loki, I’m here.” She wiped tears from his cheek and he shook.

“N-no,” he mumbled through tears, lifting a hand as though to shield himself.

“Loki, are you in pain? Talk to me, my son.”

He let out a wracking sob. “I c- can’t,” he said hoarsely. “I w - want to...”

“You can, dear one, I’m here.”

Loki looked at her fondly, tears blurring his vision as he allowed himself a moment to pretend. He reached up to touch her golden hair that hung in shining tresses over him. “But you’re not,” he whispered, “Not really.”

“What do you mean, Loki?”

He smiled shakily. “You’ll always be here,” he said touching his chest. “I wish I could see you again.”

Frigga’s face creased in sorrow. “Loki, I’m here,” she whispered, taking his hand and placing it over her heart. His brow drew together as he felt her heart beat. Tears spilled from his eyes as they widened. He tried to sit up, flinching when he realized his wrist was bound. He drew his good hand away from his mother and pushed himself up, his eyes never leaving her face, and reached to touch her cheek.

“Amma?” he whispered.

Tears ran down her cheek. “Yes, dear one, it’s me. I’m here.”

“Where am I?” he pleaded.

“You’re in Asgard,” she said, taking his hand. “In tier 3, in the dungeons.”

“The dungeons...” He frowned.

Frigga’s brow drew together. “I wish it were not so.”

“When….when did I come to Asgard?” he asked, looking around, confused.

“Not a week ago,” she told him. “Thor brought you home from Midgard.”

“Midgard...” repeated Loki.

And all at once his memory crashed down on him, and with it the horror of everything that had passed. He put a hand to his eyes and gave himself over to weeping.

Frigga held him, arms solid and warm around him. There was no pain. She was there and this was real. He clung to her like he had when he was a little boy and when he had sobbed out all his tears he sat shivering in her arms, mind numb and soul exhausted.

With what strength was left to him he slid off the bed onto his knees in front of her and clasped her hands, forcing his lips to move.

“I never meant to hurt you,” he whispered, voice cracking. “Amma, I can never make it right, but I never meant to hurt you.”

“Oh my beautiful dark boy,” she murmured, putting arms round him and kissing his forehead. “There is hope yet, dear one. I have already forgiven you. Can you forgive me?”

He shuddered in her arms, pulling away, “D-don’t - “ he stammered, “You c-cannot ask me forgiveness, not after everything - “

“But I must,” she said gently. “I should have told you the truth from the beginning. It does not matter that I only wished to protect you. In the end, I wounded you deeply. Will you forgive me, my son?”

Loki stared at her, tears rolling in rivulets down his white cheeks. At last he nodded, forcing words through his constricted throat.

“There is nothing to forgive.”


	13. Matters of State

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thor gaped. “Since when does Asgard allow Midgardian involvement in her internal affairs?”  
“You disagree?” said Odin, an eyebrow cocked.  
Thor opened his mouth and shook his head. “No, I…I suppose it makes sense. It’s just that you’ve never allowed Midgardians here before.”  
“Asgard has never committed crimes against Midgard before,” said Odin flatly. “It is necessary. They are entitled to see justice done, and it is imperative the other realms see that Asgard is fair and benevolent in this regard.”

Frigga had persuaded Loki to eat an apple. He was thin, and gaunt. Of course he’d always been slender – all sharp lines and stiff posture. But she’d never seen him this way. Wasted, and trembling beneath the weight of dark burdens she could not guess at. She had insisted he get up from his knees in front of her and back to his bed. He did not want to lie down and held the apple loosely in his hand without looking at it.

“You’ll heal faster if you eat something,” she urged. “And rest. You look as though you need several fortnights of sleep.”

Loki looked up at her, a shadow of the boy he’d been flitting across his face as he straightened a little and cocked an eyebrow. “I must be quite a sight, Mother.”

She chuckled, and her eyes softened. “A sight for sore eyes.”

She reached out and brushed his cheek as his shoulders slumped and he dropped his gaze. “Eat, love. Please.”

He ate the apple. Slowly, with careful bites, and did not seem to enjoy it. When all that remained in his hand was the core he made a slight gesture – nothing more than a twitch of his fingers – his eyes on the core. It remained in his palm and he let out a breath through his nose. Frigga took his hand in hers and at her gesture the core disappeared.  
  
“The cell is warded, I’m afraid, against all but your self-healing.”   
  
He nodded. “Of course.”   
  
She grimaced. He conjured what he could - a smile that did not reach his eyes. “It’s alright, Mother. I expect no less.”   
  
Frigga cast her eyes round the cell. “I will see to it some books are brought. And, if you will endure it, I will visit.”   
  
Loki smiled faintly. “I will endure it. I – ”   
He met her gaze and then dropped it again, shook his head minutely and fell silent.   
  
Frigga squeezed his hand. “Your Father looked in on you last night.”   
  
“I do not wish to speak of Odin,” Loki said, suddenly terse.   
  
“He wishes to see you.”   
  
“He’s the King of Asgard. I suspect if he wishes to see me there will be nothing I can do about it.”   
  
Frigga pressed her lips together.   
  
“Forgive me, Mother,” he said tightly. “I’m tired.”  
  
Frigga got up slowly and bent to press a kiss to his forehead. “Rest then, dear one.”   
  
Loki could not speak, simply nodded. He did not raise his eyes till she had exited his cell and when he did he caught sight only of her skirts rounding the far corner. He cast his eyes around his cell and wondered if the bright walls and buzzing energy shield would be enough to keep the dark out.   
  
The trouble was, the dark was already inside. Inside of him.   
  
And there would be no driving it out.  
  
~*~   
  
Frigga had left Loki mid-morning, instructing Svehn to keep watch, and sending for books from the library. She felt lighter than she had in some time, if not entirely unburdened. Loki was alive, and he did not hate her, and, for now, that was enough. Though, in the days to come, there would be much dark to contend with, and she would have to hold her family together if they were to remain unconsumed.   
  
~*~   
  
Thor woke early, dressed, and went down to the throne room, and then to Odin’s private office. Odin was already there, seated, and writing in his long cursive script on several pieces of parchment. He glanced up as Thor entered.   
  
“Hello, my boy,” he said, gesturing for Thor to take a seat.   
  
Thor glanced at the papers in front of his father. They appeared to be letters to rulerships in the different realms. Thor had not had space in his mind for matters of state recently, but he supposed there was a great deal of administration and communication between realms that needed to take place, what with the troubled circumstances of Loki’s return.   
  
“I came to offer my assistance,” he said when Odin had set down his quill. “I’ve been neglectful. I apologize.”   
  
“Neglectful?” Odin said abruptly, and Thor almost thought he was to face another lecture. But Odin laughed humorlessly. “You mean while you’ve been off world, on your King’s orders, setting the realms to rights and cleaning up your brother’s messes? No, my boy. You’ve not been neglectful.” He rubbed his face. “But I’d appreciate your assistance. There’s much to attend to and I am weary.”   
  
He indicated the letters in front of him. “The repair of the Bifrost is vexing our Magical Engineering Department. I’m at the end of my tether with the business. We need to bring in magical engineers from outside Asgard.”   
  
“Did you have some in mind?” Thor asked. “I’m told they are few are far between.”   
  
“Indeed,” said Odin, “And those we can trust, fewer and further. I am sending word to the other realms. It’s likely the engineers they have will be in the employ of the state. They will need to be met with and scrutinized.”   
  
“Would you like me to oversee this?”   
  
“I would. You will need to travel. Likely through Vanaheim – your Mother can send you, and from there you will use their paths to the other realms.” Odin drummed his fingers on his desk. “But after the trial,” he added, “There is much to see to on that front.”   
  
Thor nodded. “No doubt the other realms will want explanations.”   
  
“King Otora has already sent a messenger. He wants to know what action Asgard intends to take against Loki, and whether other protectorates need fear similar attacks from our royals in the future.” Odin sounded angry at this, and weary. It was certainly a facetious question, but a valid one, Thor realized. “Vanaheim are aware of Loki’s imprisonment,” Odin went on, “Your Mother has been in touch with Freyr, you can imagine. But the realms are watching – ” and here he turned a troubled eye on Thor, “How we handle this matter has a bearing on the future of Asgard and our place in the realms. You must understand that.”   
  
Thor met his Father’s hard gaze and pressed his lips together, nodding assent.   
  
“For this reason, I have written letters to all the rulerships in all the realms advising of our intent to prosecute Prince Loki Odinsson of Asgard, and that a full investigation has commenced, and will conclude with a fair trial.”   
  
Thor dropped his gaze and nodded stiffly. Odin sighed as he leaned forward and clasped his hands over his desk and continued. “The investigation will be conducted by members of the high court, and, being that the crimes were committed by a royal, the investigation is to be overseen by an impartial party. The governments of the people Loki harmed on Midgard will need to be notified of his prosecution. Representatives will also need to be present at the trial.”   
  
Thor looked up with a start. “Representatives from Midgard? Present at the trial _in Asgard?_”   
  
The All-Father nodded and leaned back in his chair. Thor gaped. “Since when does Asgard allow Midgardian involvement in her internal affairs?”   
  
“You disagree?” said Odin, an eyebrow cocked.   
  
Thor opened his mouth and shook his head. “No, I…I suppose it makes sense. It’s just that you’ve never allowed Midgardians here before.”   
  
“Asgard has never committed crimes against Midgard before,” said Odin flatly. “It is necessary. They are entitled to see justice done, and it is imperative the other realms see that Asgard is fair and benevolent in this regard.”   
  
“What of Jotunheim?” Thor asked.   
  
“What of it?” He thought he saw Odin’s eye flash.   
  
“Crimes were committed against them. Will there be a trial?”   
  
“There were fortunately few who died in the Bifrost attack. It was reported as a malfunction and they were sent aid, and recompense for the lands and crops they lost.”   
  
Thor gazed at his father. “And what of the people they lost?”   
  
“There were few casualties, as I have said.”   
  
Thor dropped his gaze. “What of those who died by my hand?”   
  
Odin gave him a hard look. “Do you wish to be tried, Thor?”   
  
Thor sighed and scrubbed a hand over his face. “No.”   
  
“Then stop criminalizing yourself. Your actions were provoked. Laufey arrived here not three days later and tried to kill both your Mother and I. What happened to him and his men ended the conflict. You were banished, your powers taken from you. The Jotnar have not called for further justice. I see no reason to bring them into this now.”   
  
Thor gave a curt nod, his chest tight for reasons he couldn’t explain. “As you wish, Father.”   
  
Odin took his measure and then stood. “Have these messages delivered for me. Huginn and Munnin can manage them. The representatives from the other realms will need to find their way here through Vanaheim, all except those of Midgard.” And here he turned to look at his son.   
  
“You wish me to collect them,” Thor stated.   
  
“Indeed. Two days before the trial.”   
  
“And who am I to bring from Midgard?” asked Thor.   
  
“I will leave that to your judgment,” said Odin. “In the meantime, the investigation needs to be brought before the high court. We do not have much time before the trial and I wish it to be a fair one.”   
  
“And the impartial party? Who is to oversee the investigation?”   
  
Odin picked up Gungnir. “Heimdall. Who else?”


	14. Attack at Erasahnt

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A man could be heard screaming. Sigyn ran. The man was carrying a young girl, blood staining his clothes and dripping onto the floor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone! I do apologize for the long absence between Chapter 12 and 13. I'm updating with this chapter and hopefully another one later today to make up for it! Real life just caught up with me the last few months, but I'm not going anywhere! I will finish this story, so bear with me! Thanks so everyone who has been reading and commenting and leaving kudos! It means so much to me <3

Thor took the letters up to the North tower where Huginn and Munnin could be found perched on the wide balcony, looking out at all of Asgard. More often, however, they spent their days soaring across the golden lands and giving word to Odin about matters great and small. How weary the King must be, that he had not called them with Gungnir straight to his office.

Thor took the steps two at a time and, upon reaching the top, was only a little surprised to see the two ravens alight on the balcony railing. Perhaps Odin had sent for them after all.

“Huginn, Munnin.”

He knelt, set the scrolls on the floor and divided them into two groups which he tied up tight with string. When he rose, Huginn was already extending a leg. Thor tied the delivery to the proffered limb and turned then to Munnin. Once secured, both birds cast a wide piercing eye over Thor, and took off from the balcony with a cry.

He watched them fly up and away. As they disappeared into the blue haze, his eye was drawn down to the sprawling golden city beneath him: the orchard in Frigga’s gardens, the many winding cobbled streets that netted themselves round the palace courtyards, the fields of Pejnor that extended into farmlands as far as the pink mountains in the west. The South Sea raged in the distance, crashing against the splintered ends of the Bifrost, now dark – an obsidian bridge stretching out to the edge of the world - it’s glittering power thrown out into the universe. Thor could not quite see such a distance away, but he imagined that he made out a lone helmeted figure, straight backed, shoulders set, clasping an enormous sword, standing serenely at the jagged precipice, at watch over the world with golden eyes.

The golden eyes of Asgard had always watched over the realms, and, Thor realized, he had to ensure that they always would. All of this that lay beneath him was under his protection, and there were many more worlds just like it – with their winding streets, bountiful plantations, and peoples carving out lives, raising families, living in peace – across the universe. And, at least in Yggrasil, Thor was sworn to protect them.

The weight of his promise settled heavy on him then as he looked out at the bright world, and the gravity of Kingship was impressed upon him. Perhaps Odin had intended for him to climb up here after all. He turned, thoughts sinking beneath the palace, to the dungeons, and to Loki, who, Thor had realized far too late in his life, understood rule far better than Thor ever could.

~*~

After sending off the letters, Thor joined his Father and the High Court in the war room to discuss the investigation that was to begin with urgency. There were nine courtmasters in total, and they were already seated when he arrived. The All-Father sat at the head of the long oak table in the centre of the room, and Heimdall stood just behind him to his right.

Thor greeted them with a respectful inclination of the head. “Your Majesty. Masters. Heimdall.”

The courtmasters each greeted him in turn, rising half-way from their seats. Odin nodded as Thor took the seat to his right, and Heimdall murmured a greeting.

Odin cast his eye around the room.

“Masters of the High Court, you’ve been summoned regarding the investigation into Loki’s crimes on Midgard, and his alliance with the Chitauri. I trust you are agreed on how to proceed?”

The court Superior, Aldror, spoke first. He was an elderly man; olive skinned, with a lined face and grey hair. “Indeed, your Grace. Although it is a torrid business, and we are grieved to be conducting it.” Here he paused and inclined his head at the All-Father before continuing. “We have heard Heimdall’s testimony, and with his report in mind, there can be no uncertainty surrounding Prince Loki’s crimes committed on earth. We will hear Heimdall’s testimony again at the trial, and would ask his lordship, Thor, to bring those eyewitnesses from Midgard to give unbiased testimony also.”

“Master Aldror, you sound as though you have foregone the investigation and arrived immediately at the conclusion of your research,” said Thor irritably, pressing cracks into the wooden arms of his chair in an effort to contain a sudden rush of rage. Next to him, Odin let out an almost imperceptible sigh.

Aldror turned grey eyes on Thor. “My lord, the reality of Loki’s crimes are understandably hard to believe - “

“On the contrary, Master Aldror, I have no trouble believing in Loki’s crimes,” rumbled Thor, “As I personally bore witness to them on Midgard.”

“Then you understand, my Prince, that his crimes are indisputable. He will go to trial, as is fair, but the verdict is clear – ” and at Thor’s growl, Aldror held up a hand, unperturbed, "- an investigation will be conducted into the effects of the tesseract on the Prince, but I must advise your lordship and his Majesty that considering the Prince’s mastery of magic, it is more likely that he committed these crimes of his own free will and not whilst under the thrall of a magical object.”

“But you don’t know that!” gritted Thor.

“No, indeed. That is the reason for the investigation,” said Aldror crisply.

“He was changed!” Thor said desperately, turning to the room at large, “When I found him on Midgard – he was not himself! There is more at work here than meets the eyes, courtmasters. His state of mind – what happened to him after his fall – I insist this is investigated - ”

“The High Court is entitled to conduct investigations into the royal family at their own discretion and on their own terms,” Odin interrupted firmly. “You will not impose on them.”

“Father – he is my brother - “

“Indeed he was,” said Bjald, before the King could respond. He was a dark haired senior scribe and he held his hands clasped in front of him as he surveyed Thor dispassionately from further down the table. “But though he may have fallen from the Bifrost as your young brother, my lord, what is clear is that he returned a commander in the army of the Chitauri – a nation not allied with Asgard and who under Loki’s goading invaded one of Asgard’s protectorates – one of _your _protectorates.”

“Loki’s goading?” repeated Thor, “You cannot know that!”

“His lordship Thor is right,” said a small man with a light voice opposite Bjald. “What is _not_ clear is how Loki came to be allied with the Chitauri. I would know more of this and believe it has a bearing on his case.”

Aldror and Bjald cast steely eyes on the man, whose name was Habar, and Habar raised his hands in a show of peace. “I do not contradict, Master Superior. There can be no doubt of the Prince’s crimes. But it would benefit us to know the circumstances of his allegiance with the Chitauri.”

“Agreed,” said Thor gruffly.

“Regardless of the circumstances, the fact remains he made an alliance with our enemies,” said Bjald, turning to Thor. “Exploration of the Prince’s fall will not yield favourable findings, and will not help your brother’s case.” He turned then to Odin. “Do you wish us to proceed in this direction, Your Grace?”

“I do,” said Odin. “Loki may not be innocent, but I would know the circumstances surrounding his betrayal.”

“Is the High Court agreed?” said Aldror, looking around the table to his masters. They nodded each in turn and he looked to the All-Father who let out a breath and nodded.

“The High Court has my full support. Heimdall will oversee your inquiry and report to me directly.” He put a fist to his chest. “May we serve Asgard.”

“May we serve Asgard.” The voices of the courtmasters chorused around the table. Thor almost forgot to join them such was the beating of his heart. He rose with the masters and watched them leave. When the door was finally shut behind Bjald, he slammed his fists onto the table.

“They would see Loki hanged without trial!” he growled.

Odin got up, leaning heavily on Gungnir, and turned a gimlet eye on him. “And they’d be justified,” he said flatly. “Loki is guilty of treason and murder.”

Thor rounded on him. “He is your son!” he bellowed.

“And I am his father!” said Odin angrily. “It made no difference to him, and it makes no difference now! I cannot stand in the way of justice – not even when my children wrap the noose round their own necks! I will do what is best for Asgard – no more, no less!”

Thor squeezed his eyes shut. “You didn’t argue for him once - “

“I am not at liberty to argue for him!” Odin shouted, “The High Court is conducting an inquiry into the Royal Family, Thor! You would do well to bear it with some semblance of dignity!”

Thor heaved a breath, the fight going out of him. “It is not easy for me to do that.”

“I realize that,” said Odin, and his voice was suddenly gentle. “This is not how I wished your reign to begin. It is a trial only an old King should bear.”

Thor turned to Odin, suddenly anxious. “But my reign has not begun, Father. You are yet on the throne.”

His Father watched him a moment and then nodded. “A while, yet,” he said softly. “But not always. You must be ready, my son. Do you understand? You are Asgard’s greatest protector.”

Thor gazed back at him, unable to respond. Odin heaved another breath. “I must look in on your Mother. Will you hear supplications today?”

Thor nodded, swallowing down a strange sense of dread. “Yes, Father.”

~*~

Eir had been down to the dungeons early that morning at the behest of the Queen. She had not asked for assistance, and so Sigyn found herself assisting Lord Fallon instead, who was attempting to replicate his apothecary in Vanaheim to the minutest detail. The office allocated to him in the Palace healing wing was much too small for all the equipment that kept coming out of the three trunks he had brought with him, much to Sigyn’s incredulity.

“It’s a spacial adjustment spell,” he explained to Sigyn. “I’ll teach it to you. Very useful. I once used it when I was...”

And he would go on in this way as they unpacked all his things together. Sigyn only gave him half her attention, listening carefully for Eir’s footsteps, hoping to hear something of how Loki had passed the night. Around noon, Fallon entreated Sigyn to show him all the stocks in the apothecary and which of them might be availed to him for his medical trials. She took him around and offered to collect the supplies he needed and pack them in his office. He gladly accepted, and then, to her relief, took his leave to attend a meeting with the apothecarist over lunch. Sigyn brought out a box and began selecting supplies. She had just placed the box on Fallon’s desk in his office when there came a great cry from the sick bay.

“HELP! Help her! PLEASE!” A man could be heard screaming.

Sigyn ran. The man was carrying a young girl, blood staining his clothes and dripping onto the floor.

“Put her here,” Sigyn commanded at once, flying to the bed nearest them. The girl was young – not yet of age, her blonde hair stained red, eyes wide with terror. A wound the size of a large frying pan was gauged into her side. She was gasping and blood was dripping from her mouth. Panic clutched at Sigyn’s heart. “ARIA!”

“Do something! For norn’s sake!” pleaded the man.

She summoned bandages and healing stones to her, and began pressing the bandages into the wound. A junior healer hurried into the room and gasped.

“Aria! Fetch Eir! And Lord Fallon!” Sigyn said, “Where are the others? Where are Rodr and Caben?”

The blood was seeping through the sheets, and the girl was coughing. Sigyn slammed a hand to the girls chest and began to weave a healing spell. Yellow light wove round her fingers and across the girls chest. Her coughing eased, but the blood did not.

“Ateya carnei, sintiah inulmei.” Sigyn chanted, willing the girls flesh to knit back together. Sigyn’s nose began to bleed. She ignored it and tried to see past the fog in her mind to the sinews she was trying to sew.

“Marei!” sobbed the man, “You stay with us girl, you hold on!”

Marei began to cough again. Sigyn was beginning to feel ill but she fought for control, directing all her energy into the girl’s body, commanding it to heal. Blood poured from her nose and she sank forward, losing strength.

“Please,” she begged as the girl went limp beneath her hands. “Please….”

The girl’s father began to sob in earnest.

The doors to the wing flew open as Eir swept in, flying to Sigyn’s side. She gripped her shoulder tightly and pulled her back, putting a hand on the girls chest to replace Sigyn’s. Sigyn looked pleadingly at Eir, but the grim line of the Chief Healer’s mouth told her she had failed. Fallon appeared behind her and knelt next to the man.

“What happened?” Eir asked him gently.

“My girl, my only girl,” he wept. “My beautiful girl...”

Sigyn’s chest tightened. She reached up and closed the girl’s eyes, nausea welling in her stomach.

“Who did this?” Eir pressed him. “Tell us what happened.”

The man scrubbed a hand over his face and looked, grief-stricken, over his daughter’s still body.

“A monster. In the field at Erasahnt. I couldn’t get to her in time.”

“A monster?” repeated Fallon. “What do you mean?”

The man shook his head and cried. “I couldn’t get to her in time.”

“Take him to my office,” said Eir to Fallon. “Sigyn, come here girl.”

Sigyn turned to follow Eir. She took a step and then sank to her knees, weak. Eir put an arm under her. “Alright, easy. You’ve really done it this time.”

“I was trying to save her,” said Sigyn.

“I know,” said Eir.

She helped Sigyn to the next bed and pressed a hand to her head, murmuring as blue light flickered around her fingers. Sigyn’s nose stopped bleeding, but she didn’t notice. Her eyes were on the girl behind Eir who lay, still as stone, blood still pooling on the floor as Aria and Rodr who had only just made an appearance began laying towels to clean it up.

“Sit awhile,” said Eir. “You’ve overdone it.”

“I- I’m alright,” Sigyn managed. “I am.”

Eir gave her a concerned once over and then swept after Fallon to her office. Sigyn took a moment to collect herself and joined Aria and Rodr. Caben arrived, looking stricken. He’d been assisting another healer on the other end of the wing. He helped Rodr take the girl to the blackmaster who would prepare her body for the pyre. Sigyn and Aria cleaned up the blood in the bay and changed the bedding.

Eir and Fallon sat a long while in her office with the man, and his family was called – a brother, and a nephew – all the family he had. By the time his family had finished in Eir’s office and took him home, it was after 7 o’clock. Sigyn waited for Eir at her office door as she saw the family out.

“What did he say it was?” she asked the Chief Healer when she returned.

“An enormous beast,” said Eir with a shake of the head. “Like a wolf, and a bear, he said. I’ve never seen that kind of damage before.” The healer turned a scrutinizing eye on Sigyn. “You did all you could, Sigyn.”

Sigyn nodded blankly.

Eir put a gentle hand on her shoulder. “Go home and rest, girl. You’ve overexerted.”

Sigyn did not want to go home. She wanted to work.

“I need to finish with Lord Fallon - “

“Caben will assist him. I’ll have Aria walk you home.”

“No, it’s alright,” pleaded Sigyn. “I’m alright, Eir, I give you my word.”

Eir folded her arms. “I will take your word for it, for now. But I want you to go home and rest. You’ve been here since dawn.”

Sigyn relented and nodded her agreement. She felt rather numb as she washed her hands and took her shawl from the lock boxes in the back. And, she realized, she _was_ tired. It had been a long week. She wrapped the shawl around her as she stepped out of the healing wing. Eir was speaking with a guard when she passed, no doubt sending word to Tyr of the incident. If there was a dangerous animal roaming the farmlands in Erasahnt, it would become a matter for Tyr’s hunting squad to see to. Sigyn thought of the man, heard his crying in her mind, and felt the small body beneath her hands go limp. She wrapped her shawl tightly around her and hurried, longing suddenly for the warmth and comfort of home.

So engrossed in her thoughts was she that she was scarcely paying attention to where she was going and walked straight into a huge man. She stumbled backwards with a cry, a fall that would have sent her sprawling across the floor if the man had not caught her.

“Steady!”

Sigyn looked up to see the Crown Prince watching her with concern.

“Prince Thor! Forgive me, I - “ she was rattled, breathing heavily, she realized. “I - “

He gripped her arms gently. “Are you alright, Sigyn? Why are you covered in blood?”

Sigyn looked down at her robes which were stained at the bottom. “There was an emergency,” she said, “A girl died in the healing wing.”

Thor’s brow furrowed. “What happened?”

“An attack. An animal. Her father tried to save her but...” She shivered, feeling nauseous again. "Thor, I..."

“Can I take you home?” Thor offered after a moment. “You look unwell.”

Sigyn straightened. “I’m alright, thank you.”

Thor nodded. “Ok. Shall I walk you back anyway?”

~*~

Thor had not pressed her for details, but Sigyn told him in stuttered sentences what happened. They reached the stone wall and cobbled steps that led down to the Hyacinth Cottages and Sigyn stopped. 

“Is it the first time you’ve lost someone?” Thor asked gently.

Sigyn pressed her lips together. “I’ve seen death.” She looked out at the rooftops of the Cottages, and then down to her door which was only some feet from the stone wall. She gripped her shawl between shaking fingers. “But they were old,” she went on. “They were tired, and wanted to move on. Or else they had been sick for months. And none of them… none of them were under my care.”

“Sigyn...”

She realized she was crying. She swiped at her cheeks and folded her arms about her. “I’m alright. Thank you for walking me home.”

Thor watched her descend the stairs and walk up to her door. She did not look back as she opened the door and went inside. When she closed it behind her, she leaned against it and squeezed her eyes shut against the tears. She was a healer. People were going to die. There was not always going to be something she could do about it.

Her father appeared in the doorway to the lounge. “Sigyn?”

She opened her eyes and her face crumpled at the sight of him.

“My darling, what’s wrong?”

She went to him and threw her arms round his neck and sobbed.


	15. Sit The Throne

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thor told himself that he didn’t need to disturb Loki today. Frigga has said he was alright. Sigyn had said he was healing, his strength returning. It would be alright if he visited tomorrow, or in a few days

Thor watched the door close behind Sigyn. The news of an enormous beast in Erasahnt had his hands itching for Mjolnir. That he had spent the day immobile, seated in his Father’s throne, hearing all manner of dreary supplications from farmers and merchants and widows, had done his state of mind no good. He was irritable, weary with the drudgery of the courts and their administration, and he wanted to throw his weight at something. He thought briefly of flying out to Erasahnt, but realized that Tyr would already have huntsmen investigating. A good hunt could take him away for several days, and he had to see to things in the Palace, and to Loki.

A light touch on his arm startled him from his thoughts and he turned abruptly.

“I didn’t mean to startle you,” laughed Sif, and then her brow creased. “Are you alright?”

Thor relaxed and smiled. “I’m alright. It’s good to see you, Sif.”

“What are you doing out here? I heard you were taking supplications today. But you were gone by the time I got to court.”

“Why, were you seeking an audience as well?” asked Thor.

“Actually, I was,” said Sif, and she took his arm and they began to walk back to the Palace.

“I wanted to make a request.”

“I’m listening,” said Thor, beginning to lighten.

“The Crown Prince’s friends wish for an hour – or two – of his time. On the training grounds preferably, but we will take what we can get.”

Thor’s brow creased and he squeezed Sif’s arm. “I am sorry my friend. I’ve – there’s just been - “

“Don’t apologize,” said Sif quickly. “I know there’s been everything to deal with. We’re just worried about you, that’s all. We heard – well, we’ve heard about the rows you’ve been having with the All-Father. We thought you could do with some support.”

Thor sighed. He was by now used to the way nothing was ever really private in the Palace. But it still grated him to know that the friction in the Royal family was so evident. He thought of the Warriors Three and the training grounds and realized the company might do him some good.

“The Crown Prince will grant you an hour – or two – of his time,” he said formally. “On the training grounds, in accordance with your supplication.”

Sif laughed and, just like when they were children, tugged his arm and took off toward the training grounds on the west side of the Palace.

~*~

Tyr had summoned Svehn from the dungeons. Another guard had replaced him outside Loki’s cell. The Queen had allowed it on account of Svehn being Tyr’s best tracker, and the problem of a beast mauling a child in Erasahnt. Svehn would lead a triage of huntsmen. They would track the beast and kill it and he would return to his post in the dungeons. They were set to leave at dawn, and Svehn took the opportunity to take supper in the feasting hall. He found a seat near the entrance, positioning himself with his back to the wall so he could look out into the night as well as around the entire hall. The Royal family was absent this evening. No doubt they were exhausted from a week of high drama. He laughed to himself. It had always been Loki’s way to raise hell while his family swept round him, trying to keep up. Svehn had missed him in the years they had been apart, and a heavy feeling settled in his stomach. Had things been different, perhaps Loki would never have taken the path that he had. What had he been through in Svehn’s absence that had led to his fall, and this wild madness on Midgard? As he took a bite of venison stew, he looked up and noticed toward the entrance of the hall, a couple of soldiers, off duty, watching him from a distance. He took note for only a moment and lowered his gaze. Being a magic user, he had not been well accepted amongst Tyr’s troops. It had come as no surprise to him, and he was well practiced in watching his back. His history with Prince Loki was thankfully not well known but he had had to prove himself to Tyr. It had taken an accident on the mountain in Gravor, some risky magic and daring acrobatics to prove to the General that he was worth having around. And once he’d got Tyr’s stamp of – albeit reserved – approval, he had begun to carve out a place for himself in the ranks, and even gained some respect from some of his fellow soldiers. But there were still those who did not take kindly to magic users, and what with Prince Loki being a sorcerer and the business of his invasion, there was bound to be some foolish squabbling over Svehn’s place in the King’s Guard.

Having finished his meal, Svehn stood, drained his goblet, and left the hall, taking the steps down to the barracks where he could sleep for a few hours before they left for Erasahnt. Halfway to the barracks, on a dark stretch of cobbled road, he noted a scuffing behind him. Careful to keep his pace steady, he took a right turn down a dirt path that led to a cluster of cottages and further down, the market square. It was lined with hedgegrows and some yards down a large oak jutted out atop an embankment. Here, Svehn ducked behind its great tangle of roots that were exposed by the path cut into the earth. A moment later the heavy breathing of two soldiers could be heard. One cursed.

“We’ve lost him.”

“He can’t go far. Market Square’s just up ahead.”

“No – not that way. He’s here somewhere. Careful.”

Svehn soundlessly pulled a thin twine from his belt. A stone was attached to the end of it and he unravelled it some, aimed, and sent it flying through the dark. It wrapped neatly round the first soldiers neck and he yanked, tightening it, as the soldier choked out a cry and began clawing at his neck. The second soldier rushed to his aid and Svehn chose this moment to come out from behind the oak, aiming another of these crude string and stone weapons at his second pursuant and brought him down just as quickly. He yanked on the twine and placed a foot on the first soldiers neck.

“Why are you tracking me like a beast? You had every opportunity to speak with me in the feasting hall.”

Naturally, the soldier on the ground choked and gurgled in lieu of a response. Svehn loosened his grip.

“Speak up, man. I won’t kill you.”

“You’ve got it coming to you, spellcaster!” hissed the man. “You’ve no place in Asgard’s army!”

“Yes, yes,” said Svehn boredly, “Is that all?”

The second soldier had managed to loosen the twine round his neck a little. “You’re in league with him – the Traitor-Prince! Why else would the Queen put you outside his cell like that!”

“Because no one gets past me,” Svehn said easily. “As you’ve experienced. Now - “ and with a hard jerk he cut their air supply, “- I will give you fair warning, because perhaps somewhere in your twisted mind you mean well. I am loyal to Asgard, and to the Crown. I am a member of the King’s Guard, serving to protect the Royal family at the cost of my life if necessary. I don’t intend to lose it in a back alley at Market Square to two imbeciles unable to find their way out of a meadhall. If you track me again I will drag you to Erasahnt and use you as bait for the beast. Have I made myself clear?”

The two men who were now turning purple could only splutter.

“Tap my boot if you understand,” said Svehn, unmoved.

They both slapped clumsily at his boot and he released them, whipping his twine and stone back and taking a moment to roll them up and attach them to his belt. The two soldiers wheezed and croaked on the ground at his feet. He gave them a polite smile.

“Good evening, gentlemen.”

~*~

Thor passed the evening with his friends. They sparred, first he and Sif, then he and Hogun. Fandral challenged him to a fight without weapons which Thor enjoyed immensely. He was much bigger and heavier than Fandral, but Fandral was quick. It reminded Thor of times he had sparred with Loki. It made him sad, and so he put it out of his mind and focused on his friends who were laughing and teasing him as though nothing had really changed. Volstagg took him on in an arm wrestle at the end of everything, and he very nearly won because Fandral kept making jokes that had Thor weak with laughter. By the end of the evening, he felt almost like himself again and said so as he lay on the floors of their common room adjacent to the training arena.

“We’ve missed you,” said Hogun quietly. The dark warrior from Vanaheim was sitting nearest to him and he gave Thor a squeeze on the shoulder. Sif had fetched him a flask of ale and lowered herself to the floor at his knee, handing the flask to him and turning to lean her back against the arm of his chair. Volstagg had found food, of course, and sat on the low table nearby, munching and grunting agreement when Fandral lay back on a lounge chair and proposed they take a trip, like they had in the old days, to get away from it all. Thor sighed wistfully.

“Fandral, you know I would love nothing more. But I can’t leave, not with things the way they are.”

“I know,” said Fandral miserably. “If only -” He stopped abruptly. Sif gave him a warning look from the floor and Hogun quickly changed the subject.

“I have heard talk of a beast in Erasahnt.”

Thor nodded. “So have I. I trust Tyr has been informed. I’ll make sure of it.”

“Or I can,” offered Sif. “You have enough on your plate.”

“Thank you,” said Thor. “He will have huntsmen and trackers to send after it. I debated whether to go after it myself. But I am - “

“Needed here,” said Sif with a squeeze to his knee. “It’s alright. Tyr’s men will manage it. And if they don’t, we will see to it.”

Thor nodded and squeezed her shoulder. “Thank you, my friends. I have felt… not myself. But tonight I feel stronger, with you here.”

~*~

Frigga woke early and looked over at her husband, still fast asleep. In the morning light the lines of his face were softened and he appeared truly at rest. But the exhaustion could be seen in the grey under his eyes and how his sleep was becoming deeper and deeper each night. If he fell into the Odinsleep in the middle of this mess with Loki…. She pressed her lips together. Thor would manage, she told herself. He was a good, strong leader, with more heart than her and Odin combined. He would manage. She got out of bed quietly and sent two messengers – the first to retrieve a tonic from Eir, and the second to ask Thor to meet her for breakfast in the family dining room.

The first messenger returned with the tonic just as she was pinnig her hair up. She took it and placed it on the table next to Odin. The second messenger arrived soon after, with Thor on his heels. Frigga stepped out of the bedroom and met them in the dining hall where breakfast had been laid on the table for them.

“Hello my son,” she said giving him a tight hug.

“Mother,” he said squeezing her back. “How are you? How is father?”

“I am well enough,” she said letting go and moving to the table. “Your father is tired.”

Thor grimaced. “I will sit the throne today again. He should rest.”

Frigga smiled at him gratefully. “How are you, love?”

Thor picked idly at the grapes in the middle of the table. “I’m alright.”

“You’re anxious,” she said as she poured two cups of blackberry tea.

Thor sighed. “I have not been to see Loki. How is he?”

“He is Loki,” said Frigga with a dry laugh. “He is healing. He slept a little. He does not refuse my visits.”

“That’s good to hear,” said Thor, genuinely relieved. He picked at a few more grapes and then accepted the cup of tea Frigga handed him.

“I… Mother, I want him back,” he said suddenly. “He was dead, and… all I wanted was for him to come back. And then he did. Except, he didn’t. Not really.”

Frigga sat, and Thor took the seat next to her.

“Coming back from the dead is not so simple a thing,” she said, eyes on the steam that curled up from her tea cup.

“But he wasn’t really dead, was he?” said Thor. “He was lost.”

“And still is. We have to guide him back, Thor.”

Thor scrubbed a hand over his face. “I don’t know how to do that. I’ve tried...”

“I know. There’s no formula to it, love. But I know Loki loves us, and misses us. He’s looking for the light. We have to be there to call him to it.”

“I wish none of this had happened.”

Frigga took Thor’s hand. “Go and see him. There is hope yet, love.”

Thor shook his head. “I don’t think I should. He – he sort of – goes mad when he sees me.” Thor didn’t realize it until he’d said it aloud. Now, it made him sadder. “He hates me, Amma.”

“Oh Thor, he doesn’t. Loki loves you fiercely. You must see past his fear and anger.”

“How can I when he goads me at every opportunity?” said Thor exasperatedly. “He wanted me to kill him the other night!”

At this Frigga’s brow creased and she looked at him questioningly.

“He says it is my destiny. Because when I was little I… I said foolish things. I said I would hunt the monsters down and...” Thor could not finish. He put his head in his hands. “I’ve failed him, Amma.”

Frigga rose and put her arms round her eldest son.

“You have only failed him if you have given up, my love. Have you?”

Thor reached back and put a hand on his mother’s arm. “No, Amma. I haven’t.”

~*~

They had finished breakfast, Frigga pressing a kiss to his cheek and reassuring him that all would be well. He had spent the morning taking supplications, and after the midday meal had been startled out of his seat in his father’s office when Huginn landed heavily on his shoulder with a nerve shattering cry.

“Norns! - Get – off – Huginn!”

The bird squawked and proferred his leg. There was a letter tied to it and Thor hastily removed it and opened the letter. A response from King Otora in Alfheim.

_I receive news of Prince Loki’s prosecution with relief, and grim acceptance. We trust you will see justice done for the good of the realms. _

_ I have in my employ an engineer well versed in magical architecture who has volunteered his services to Asgard. It is my request he be rewarded with payment large enough to settle him on farmland in the east quarter. He is a good man. Please advise passage to Asgard._

_ Regards,_

_ Ombri Otora, King in Alfheim_

Thor sighed in relief. At the very least, relations with Alfheim were becoming less tense. Though, if Loki were simply sentenced to prison and not to death, hostilities could well rise. He put that future from his mind and set about sending a response. He requested the engineer travel to Vanaheim and accept assistance from Freyr who would help him prepare for a journey to Asgard guided by the power of the Queen. That done, Thor turned his attention to the Treasurer who needed a score of documents signed. Thor was unsure of what he was signing and asked the Treasurer to leave the documents with him for the afternoon. He hobbled through them, at times confused by the records, at others finding discrepancies which he requested explanations for. He was interrupted twice by Tyr, the first time seeking out Odin, and the second reporting that his hunters had left early that morning to track the animal in Erasahnt. Thor muddled through the day without a word from his Father, and when four o’clock came around, he realized with a pang that he had still not been down to the dungeons.

Truthfully, he was apprehensive about seeing his brother again. In Frigga’s arms he had been entirely at peace. Whenever Thor spoke to him, he turned into a vicious snake. Perhaps it was a mark of Thor’s character that he brought that side of Loki out. He rubbed his face and yawned, and then thought of Sigyn. Setting the papers he was reading through down, he left the office, locking it behind him, and went to the healing rooms.

Sigyn was there, on the balcony, persuading a cross looking old woman to drink a tonic. Thor watched her through the wide glass windows. When the woman finally took the cup from her and had dutifully swallowed the whole lot, Sigyn came back into the sick bay and noticed Thor waiting for her.

“Prince Thor,” she said with an attempt at a smile. “Are you well?”

“Just Thor,” he said quietly, returning her smile. “And I came to see that you were well.”

Sigyn set her tray down. “I am well.”

Thor cocked an eyebrow at her. There were dark rings under her eyes and she had set the tray down because her hands were shaking a little.

“Really, Thor. Don’t bother about it. How are… things?”

“You mean Loki? I hoped to ask you, actually.” He ran a hand through his hair. “I haven’t been down to see him...”

“From what I hear from Eir, his wounds are healing quickly. He’s strong. Or at least, his strength is returning.”

Thor let out a relieved breath. After a moment he began fidgeting with a loose thread on his belt. “Truthfully, I feel guilty. That he’s down there and I’m here. It’s easier for me to ask you.”

Sigyn nodded. “I understand. But your choices put you here. And his choices put him there. Remember that.”

She swayed a little then and leaned surreptitiously against the wall.

“You shouldn’t be on duty,” Thor said suddenly. “You weren’t well yesterday.”

Sigyn sighed. “I overexerted. That’s all. I’m taking a restorative.”

“Don’t you need rest? Whenever Loki overdid it with magic, he had to sleep for a few days.”

Sigyn chewed her lip. “I’ll be fine, Thor. Thank you for worrying, but I daresay you have other things to be anxious over.”

“Alright,” Thor relented, and then, with a teasing tilt of his jaw said, “But if you don’t look any better tomorrow I will order you home. I’m the Crown Prince, after all.”

Sigyn’s jaw dropped in mock indignation. “Oh you will, will you?”

Fallon’s voice sounded from further in the wing. “Sigyn, my dear!”

She picked up her tray.

“Will you at least go home early, Sigyn?” Thor pleaded.

She snorted. “As you wish, _your Majesty.”_

Thor laughed and she stuck her tongue out as she walked away.

~*~

Thor told himself that he didn’t need to disturb Loki today. Frigga has said he was alright. Sigyn had said he was healing, his strength returning. It would be alright if he visited tomorrow, or in a few days. In the meantime, Thor would finish with the Treasurer, and look in on his Father. There was also a meeting about the Bifrost that he needed to attend if Father was not well enough. There was much to see to, and Thor told himself that at least, for the time being, Loki was safe and if he had enough time, he would would find out a way to keep it that way.


	16. A Mind In Disarray

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Loki began to laugh. “Oh Thor,” he said shaking his head. “You should have them whip me.”

Loki had risen from troubled sleep in the middle of the night, shaking nightmares from his head as he crossed the room to stand near the table that Frigga had brought in for him. It was piled with an assortment of books which he had not opened. The guards had shifted when they’d heard him move and they stood now where they could see him. He paid them no heed. He stood still as stone, staring into the dark of the long stone corridor. In the day, the cells that lined the walls were lit up, their white walls radiating white light. Now, they were all darkened, and only the energy of the buzzing force-fields gave off any kind of light. Loki preferred it. The bright white was exhausting and made his head throb behind his eyes.

He stood for long moments not thinking about anything. It was a relief to just breathe. But he couldn’t stop his thoughts from eventually turning to his predicament. He was back in Asgard, a traitor and a prisoner, and Odin would surely have his head. He considered his options. He rather thought Thor would no longer be easily manipulated by him. The Queen may have been his mother but even she could not sway the High Court. No one could refute the evidence. He could speak with Odin and offer something in exchange for clemency, or at least the right to keep his head. He had valuable information – he had been deep inside the Chitauri hive bases and could tell Odin everything he needed to know to defeat them. But this would hardly grant him his freedom. Buy him some time, maybe. Not that freedom would benefit him in the least. Away from Asgard, it was only a matter of time before he was found. If he was going to be in a prison, this was the one to be in. And if he was going to be free, the only place that was remotely safe was Asgard. But Loki somehow doubted he would be both free from prison and free to live where he chose. Half the population of Asgard probably wanted him dead now. His final option was to tell the truth, but truths had never come easy to Loki, and no one ever wanted to hear them from his lips anyway. It made no difference why he had done the things he’d done. The fact was, he’d done them. And there could be no forgiveness after that.

Loki had not realized how long he had stood in the shadows contemplating. The lights of his cell flicked on and he squinted, eyes adjusting poorly to the brightness. He had been provided things to wear. They were simple, and all in black: trousers, a tunic, a coat, and boots. Standard issue in Asgardian prisons. He had spent most of the week sleeping and recovering from more than just whip wounds. He looked about him now and decided to make use of the wash area. It was screened off from the rest of the cell and consisted of a basin set under a crude tap, and a towel on a stool. He washed mechanically, dressed carefully, and squeezed the water from his hair. He was rested, clean, and relatively comfortable. His back and wrist were healing surprisingly fast now that his self-healing was not impeded, and he had books an arm stretch away. But as he stood motionless in his spot next to the table, his chest welled with a maelstrom of emotions that churned together to form only one he recognized: anger.

The resulting nausea that he felt when his magic tried to leap up to meet his rage made him reach for what was closest. He upturned the table, sent the books careening into the walls. He threw his cot into the buzzing barrier, which made the guards jump and issue threats. He didn’t care. He leaned heavily against the wall, chest heaving and stomach churning.

How could they leave him down here? How could they think themselves so above him? After everything – after all he’d given to Asgard – here they locked and chained him, as though he was of no more consequence than a rampant beast, awaiting slaughter.

_The Prince must slay the beast._

It came without warning. Loki groaned as his mind split open. He sank to the floor, clutching his head, the throbbing in his temple draining his strength in mere moments.

_Alone in the dark once more. The Weak Prince, forgotten by two families -two worlds…_

The voice was in his head, and all around him. It reverberated in his chest and made him press himself back into the cold stone wall, panic choking him. He shook his head, trying to break the connection.

_It’s only a matter of time…_

It was like a whisper in the room. Loki forced his eyes open, expecting to see someone in front of him, but the cell was empty.

He groaned at the pain, willing himself to stand, hauling himself to his feet. He shook his head again and stumbled toward the barrier, throwing himself against it. It sent a shock through him that knocked the wind out of him and sent him sprawling backward to the floor. The blow to the back of his head was a relief. The agony in his temple subsided until all he could feel was the dull ache from where he’d landed. But no sooner had he begun to sit up, the guards outside his cell had set upon him, shouting commands and demanding answers and pulling him roughly to his feet only to slam him forcefully into the stone wall to their right. He offered them a wolfish grin.

“Thank you, I was finding it rather difficult to get up on my own.”

He realized belatedly that there was a knife to his throat.

“Watch your silver tongue, Trickster, or we’ll cut it right out,” spat the guard that had him by the throat.

“What are you playing at?” demanded the other.

Loki was finding it difficult to properly fill his lungs. “I was testing the field,” he said with a lick of the lips.

“Testing for what?” he demanded.

Loki rolled his eyes. “Vulnerabilities, imbecile.”

The guard in front of him flushed violet with rage. It earned Loki a knee to the stomach and he doubled over. The guard let him go and he sank, laughing breathlessly, to his knees.

“I’ll have you whipped, prisoner,” said the other guard, “if you set foot near that field again.”

They stepped through, the force field fading just for them, and resumed their positions, their eyes dark with hatred upon him. Loki leaned back against the wall, careful to keep a mocking gaze upon his captors, as he collected himself. He was sure the fall and being thrust against the wall so hard had split open one or two of his whip wounds. But he didn’t care. The blow had knocked the disembodied voice from his head, and, at least for now, he could have his mind to himself.

~*~

His peace was not long lived. Someone stepped heavily into the cell. Loki, who had leaned his head against the wall, cracked an eye open. Thor surveyed the disarrangement of his cell with mixed concern and irritation.

“Loki.” He dared to be reproachful. Loki wanted to throw him bodily from the cell. He did only what he could: gazed.

Thor took a breath. “I came to ask how you were.”

Loki let out a breathless laugh that came out as more of a snarl. “Did you.”

Thor shifted his weight. He was making Loki claustrophobic. He always did. He filled a room until there was no space for anyone else and Loki couldn’t breathe. He squeezed his eyes shut.

“Do you have to be here?” he asked acidly. “Do you not have business to attend?”

“I wanted to see you.”

So easy. So easy for him to talk like that. Like he cared.

“Now you have. Are you satisfied?”

Thor moved, righted the table and knelt to pick up the books. “Mother thought these would please you.”

“Well they don’t!” snapped Loki, his head beginning to throb again. “Does she expect me to wile away eternity reading books and scrutinizing my finger nails?”

Thor sighed. “No, not _eternity_ \- “

“No, indeed,” sighed Loki, “Just the time it takes the All-father to pluck up the guts to execute me. Tell me, Thor, does he deliberate my case or simply the method of execution?”

The expression on Thor’s face told Loki he had hit his mark. Thor rose.

“You will have a fair trial,” he said, rather more quietly than Loki expected.

“Ah, so the method of execution will be decided by the High Court. Odin could not dirty his hands, I forget - “

“Loki, enough!”

“Will Mother attend? I should think it will be a relief for her, not to have to embarrass herself, coming down here to tend a wayward - “

“Don’t speak of her like that!” growled Thor, “She comes because she loves you – she wishes to see you restored - “

Anger flared white hot in Loki’s chest and he pushed himself to his feet with a snarl. _“__Restored?” _he hissed. “Restored to what? Your perfect obedient little shadow, wide-eyed in the face of your glory?”

“I’ve never wanted you in my shadow!” shouted Thor. “I wanted you by my side!”

“_Don’t lie to me!”_

“I’m not the liar between the two of us and you know it,” Thor said angrily. Loki threw himself at the Crown Prince and the guards rushed through the barrier. Thor raised one hand to them and caught Loki’s wrist with the other. He jerked back as Loki aimed an elbow at his throat and in a moment had hold of his arm, taking care not to hurt Loki's injured wrist.

“My lord, Thor!” cried one of the guards.

“It’s fine,” said Thor through gritted teeth. “We’re having a discussion.”

The guards faltered, torn. “But, my lord - “

“Back to your posts,” Thor growled, holding Loki’s arms in a vice.

Loki began to laugh. “Oh Thor,” he said shaking his head. “You should have them whip me.”

Thor shook his head. “I’m not here to punish you. I wanted to talk. You were once better at it than I. I see now that is no longer the case.”

Loki’s wild grin faded. Thor searched his face in that infuriating way and slowly, without letting go, lowered his arms. Loki lowered his gaze and took a wobbly step backwards. Thor let him go, his hands opening reluctantly as Loki pulled from his grasp. Loki turned away, suddenly exhausted. He heard Thor right his cot, straighten the bedding, and leave the cell. He did not turn around for a long time, hoping the guards would not notice his shoulders shaking.


	17. How Things Have Changed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Loki, you are not called Silvertongue for nothing. If there is any time to employ your skill, it is now.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can't believe you have all made it through 16 chapters! I know I'm setting up a lot and it's been mostly conversations, but I promise the action will start soon! Just bear with me!

Thor had put off going down to the dungeons for two more days before Odin had set a meeting with the High Court. Unable to put it off after that, he had gone down with the intention of speaking with Loki about the investigation and the trial. Once more, he had failed entirely to have any semblance of a conversation with his bitter little brother and his failure weighed heavy on his chest as he sat amongst the courtmasters, with Odin and Heimdall watching him expectantly.

“He’s not ready,” Thor told them. “We should wait.”

“The trial cannot be put off,” said Aldror. “And we must interrogate him.”

“If it’s truth you seek, you won’t get it from him now. Not yet.”

“And how long do you propose we wait?” asked Bjald. “The investigation must come to an end.”

“The investigation has barely begun,” muttered Thor, and then said more loudly, “What have you discovered so far?”

It was Habar who spoke up, perhaps because he knew Thor might listen to him.

“My lord, communication with the Chitauri has confirmed that Loki approached them with a plot to take Midgard. They made an agreement.”

“You’ve spoken to them?” Thor said incredulously. “I was not aware that we had had communication with the Chitauri in centuries.”

Aldror shifted in his seat. “Asgard maintains communication, however sporadic, with most civilizations, even those outside Yggrasil.”

Thor looked from him back to Habar. “What were the terms of this agreement?”

“That they would provide an army, for fair payment.”

“The tesseract,” stated Odin.

Thor pressed his lips together. “What, in the view of the Chitauri, were Loki’s motives?”

“In the view of the Chitauri?” repeated Bjald. “They hardly care. Loki came to them as a Prince of Asgard, claiming right to the throne and exhorted them to prove their loyalties to the most powerful realm in Yggrasil. They had the opportunity to win the tesseract and took it.”

“That doesn’t make sense. The Chitauri have never been allied with us, they owe us no loyalties. Their realms lies outside Yggrassil.” Thor drummed his fingers on the table impatiently.

“Perhaps they thought they were forming an alliance through Loki. He can be very...persuasive,” replied Bjald.

Thor scrubbed a face over his hand, glancing at Heimdall, hoping for a contradiction that did not come. Odin cast a weary eye around the room. “What more have you learned?”

“Nothing more,” said Aldror. “By Heimdall’s testimony and the Chitauri’s confirmation of events - “

“Their version of events - “ interrupted Thor, receiving a stern eye from Odin.

“- Loki planned and executed his attack on Midgard with the full knowledge of the consequences of his actions.”

“What remains is to interrogate him,” Habar said, “We have yet to understand what passed in the Void.”

Odin nodded. “I will interrogate the prisoner.” He turned to Thor. “Bring him to me in the throne room. Courtmasters, we will convene there on the hour.”

The High Court rose and departed to prepare. Thor got up, hesitant.

“Father, you will not have the truth from him - “ he began.

“If he was coerced as you are so convinced, his only hope is to tell the truth!” growled Odin, also getting up. “Give him fair warning. This investigation will conclude tomorrow and the trial is in five days.”

Thor opened his mouth but Odin raised a hand. “I would see this business done with,” he said, and he sounded distant. “I am weary.”

~*~

Thor descended to the dungeons. It had been only a day since he’d attempted this conversation and he cast about him for any way he might get through to his brother. He dismissed the guards as he approached the cell. He had with him a set of wretched manacles which he held tightly in one hand as he stepped into Loki’s cell. Loki was seated on his bed, back rigid, eyes on the floor. He looked up as Thor approached, his gaze dropping to the manacles. He made no comment. He seemed oddly calm today, far from the spitting serpent he had been the day before.

“I’m to bring you before Father,” Thor said, getting straight to the point. “It’s an interrogation. You would do well to tell the truth.”

Loki smiled, a minute upturning of the lips. “I am not the honest one between us, and you know it.”

Thor watched him. He appeared to have slept, and there was an empty terrine on the table. Pressing his luck, he went on. “What you say in the throne room today will likely decide your sentence.”

Loki nodded serenely. “And what would you have me say, Thor?”

“Tell him the truth. About why you did all this – about who commanded you - “

“No one commanded me.” sighed Loki. “That is my truth. I waged war on Midgard of my own volition. I took the tesseract of my own free will. They know this already.”

“I don’t believe you,” said Thor shaking his head. “What happened to you - in the Void?”

“You don’t _want_ to believe me,” corrected Loki, ignoring his question.

“No, I don’t,” agreed Thor, “What happened to you, Loki?”

Loki stood and paced the room. “I fell,” he said waving a hand dismissively. “I forget the rest.”

“You’re lying.”

“Are you surprised? Where are my chains? Let us depart.”

Thor shifted. “It is not yet time. I came early, to speak with you. We are to convene in an hour.”

Loki grimaced. “Do you intend to stay until then?”

Thor folded his arms. “Yes, if you will be civil.”

“Then I will not be civil,” said Loki airily, and he picked up a book from the table, took aim and sent it flying at Thor’s head. Thor caught it easily, his flash of anger fading abruptly at the playful smirk on Loki’s face. Thor gave him a half smile, slightly thrown off by this shadow of his brother from another time. He joined him at the table, laying down the manacles and noting that there were now two chairs there. Perhaps his mother had visited again. It would certainly explain Loki’s better mood. He did not ask, however, simply sat when Loki did, and met his brother’s eyes before dropping his gaze to the table.

“You’re troubled,” said Loki, leaning back in his chair to watch him.

Thor snorted. “Yes,” he said exasperatedly. “Have you any idea - “ He stopped abruptly and passed a hand over his face. Loki looked almost sympathetic. Almost.

“You realize, as King, you will have to oversee a great many trials – and not with half so clear a verdict as mine.”

Thor watched him and did not answer.

Loki cocked an eyebrow, in just the way he had done before, whenever Thor was neglecting some princely task he hated to perform and Loki lectured him about duty. He looked like he did when he was younger, when they were training to be Kings, before they really understood what it meant. Thor took in his features, heart turning over.

“You will also be the one passing sentence, in the near future. You will have to be able to put aside your - “

“I miss you,” interrupted Thor hoarsely.

Loki stopped, lips slightly parted, and stared at Thor.

Thor folded his arms on the table, leaning forward. He took a breath and searched for the words he needed.

“Had I been a better brother, none of this would have happened. It is only because I am not King that you are still in this cell.”

Loki scoffed, but it came out rather more incredulous than mocking. “You can’t just absolve your family members of their crimes because they are yours, Thor. There are laws and the King is governed by them.”

“Mm.” Thor pushed a breath through his nose that could have been a laugh were his brow not so deeply furrowed.

Loki sighed. “Stop thinking. It’s exhausting to watch your mind in turmoil.”

Thor barked a laugh, and then grew serious again. “Then put it at ease,” he pleaded. “Loki, you are not called Silvertongue for nothing. If there is any time to employ your skill, it is now.”

Loki looked at him and did not answer. Thor heaved a sigh and leaned back in his chair.

“It used to be that I would get us into all kinds of trouble, and you would sit and talk me through what we were going to tell our parents.”

Loki gave a small smile. “How times have changed.”

“I wish they had not.”

Loki’s lips flattened into a hard line for a moment. “But they have,” he said flatly, “And there’s nothing you can do about it.”

He stood, holding his hands out.

“Come, Thor. Let us stand before the All-Father.”


	18. The Interrogation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Loki Odinsson, you are brought before your King to make plain the events subsequent to your Fall, and those preceding your invasion of Midgard. Will you cooperate?”  
Loki inclined his head. “I will cooperate in so far as the events pertained to Loki Odinsson. His tale is short and inglorious. He fell from the Bifrost and was lost to the Void.”

Thor fastened the manacles about Loki’s wrists with gentle hands, hesitating with his bandaged wrist.

“Nevermind it, Thor,” Loki said exasperatedly. “I can’t very well leave the cell unbound.”

Thor clicked it shut as carefully as he could. Loki’s flinch was subtle enough, but Thor didn’t miss it.

“Sorry.”

Loki gave a long-suffering sigh. “Stop apologizing. Let’s go.”

Thor hesitated. “I will not gag you, but, brother, please, give me your word that you will not incite the guards or some such mischief?”

Loki chuckled then. “Oh, but my dear _brother, _I’m the God of Mischief after all.”

It was Thor’s turn to sigh. “Loki, please.” And somehow the weary tone made Loki take a breath and nod.

“You have my word, Thor.”

“Thank you,” Thor breathed, though he knew Loki’s word had never been especially binding.

He led the way from his cell. They were met at the entrance by a flank of Einherjar who kept pace behind them as they marched to the throne room. Loki walked with his chin held high, ever the decorous prince he was raised. Thor stole sidelong glances at him, stomach churning with anxiety – something that happened all too often now. He remembered marching down this very corridor not two years earlier, for a different sort of audience, without a thought of what could go wrong. Loki again walked beside him, not as his advisor, as Thor had once hoped, but bound and flanked by guards, an enemy of the state. How had it come to this? Thor felt guilt heavy in his chest.

They reached the great oak doors that led to the throne room, and Tyr stepped through before them to announce the prisoner’s arrival. Thor wanted more than ever to take hold of Loki’s arm. They stood side by side, the guards a pace behind them. If Thor angled his face only slightly, he could not see them, or Loki’s bound hands, and it was as though they had been thrust back in time. Loki did not wear his helmet – something Thor had teased him over endlessly, but now did not speak of, for it reminded him only of his brother’s madness. His hair was longer, there were smudges beneath his eyes, and bruises on his face, the innocence of youth gone from his sharp features, the wrinkles at the corners of his eyes no longer evidence of mischievous giggling over some prank, but rather of the toll of his madness, and of the Void. Thor swallowed his anxiety down, tore his eyes from Loki and looked straight ahead.

“You’re nervous,” Loki murmured so that the guards behind them did not hear.

Years ago, Thor would have denied it. Now, he saw no reason to lie. “Yes.”

“Leave it to me, brother,” Loki said easily.

Thor glanced apprehensively at him. He leaned very slightly towards him to whisper. “What will you say?”

Loki smirked. “You will be present, will you not?”

“I am your Keep. I must be.”

Loki faltered, giving Thor a sharp look. “My Keep?”

“Yes,” muttered Thor, forgetting that Loki had not been present when Odin had decreed it. “Odin named me Keep the day I brought you back.”

An expression Thor could not decipher crossed Loki’s face and then Tyr opened the oak doors and beckoned them come forward.

The All-Father sat the throne, Gungnir held in his right hand, dressed in his court robes. The Queen stood at his right shoulder, and Heimdall to his left. Tyr had taken up the position to the Queen's right. The courtmasters flanked either side of their King and Queen, staggered between the stairs, blue robes signifying justice contrasting brightly with the gold beneath their feet. On a stone column several feet high, to Odin’s left and in front of Heimdall, sat the Tesseract, and Thor’s breath caught to see it. It appeared to have a similar effect on Loki who drew back minutely on seeing it, losing pace with Thor. He recovered quickly and averted his eyes, looking up to the throne as he came to stand directly in front of it at the bottom of the dais.

Thor stood next to him and raised eyes to Odin, but Odin’s eye fell on Loki alone, and his face was an inscrutable mask. He raised his chin and spoke directly to his second son.

“Loki Odinsson, you are brought before your King to make plain the events subsequent to your Fall, and those preceding your invasion of Midgard. Will you cooperate?”

Loki inclined his head. “I will cooperate in so far as the events pertained to Loki Odinsson. His tale is short and inglorious. He fell from the Bifrost and was lost to the Void.”

Odin let out an imperceptible breath, impatient. “Are you not Loki Odinsson, returned from the dead?”

“I am Loki Laufeyson,” Loki said plainly. Thor flinched.

“Then you will answer for the time passed as Loki Laufeyson,” Odin said just as plainly.

“I cannot,” Loki said without missing a beat. Thor drew a steadying breath, and controlled the urge to stamp on Loki's foot.

“Cannot, or will not?” Odin’s voice was level, but Thor recognized the set of his jaw. It was not unlike Loki’s. It was remarkable how alike they looked when they had become immovable in their opinions. 

“Cannot,” repeated Loki, his tone flat. “It is unlawful for a King of one realm to interrogate a King of another realm as a common prisoner, without even his own cabinet present.”

Thor’s jaw fell open and he had to drop his chin to cover and regain composure.

Odin raised an eyebrow.

“The King of another realm?” repeated Aldror.

“I am the rightful King of Jotunheim,” Loki explained, not taking his eyes off the All-Father. A murmur rippled through the courtmasters. Tyr scoffed.

Odin snorted. “Bylestyr Laufeyson sits the throne in Jotunheim. You abdicated when you murdered Laufey.”

“Murdered?” repeated Loki, brow furrowing. “As I recall, Loki Odinsson killed him in defense of Asgard’s King.”

“Your claim to the throne is moot, regardless. The Jotnar chose their King after Laufey’s death.”

“An illegal ceremony, in my absence.”

“You were believed dead.”

“And yet here I stand,” said Loki. “Jotnar law demands I press my claim to the throne. If I am to be held prisoner here, I must be granted a cabinet to witness my interrogation, and trial.”

Odin leaned back in his throne and considered Loki. “Very well. You may be granted a cabinet for your trial, but as you do not at present wear the crown in Jotunheim, you are bound to Asgardian law as our prisoner, on trial for war crimes, if not treason. I ask you again, will you answer for the time passed as Loki Laufeyson, whether in the Void, or elsewhere?”

Thor's hands were sweating. Loki took a breath, dropping his gaze only a moment, before setting his jaw. “I will not.” 

“Then you leave me no choice.”

Thor’s head shot up. Frigga’s expression betrayed nothing, but her fingers on the arm of the throne were white. Odin rose and moved over to the Tesseract. Loki paled and his lips parted in a wordless ‘no!’

Thor moved instinctively to stand between him and the glowing blue cube, panic rising.

“Your Majesty - “ he began, but Odin pounded Gungnir into the ground.

“The Tesseract will tell us what the prisoner will not. The prisoner’s Keep will stand aside.” The iron is his voice made Thor do it, but he gripped Loki’s arm to brace him as Odin pounded Gungnir into the ground again, and a stream of blue light burst from the Tesseract. Under the King’s guidance, it hit Loki square in the chest. He stumbled. Thor caught him with a cry. He looked to Frigga pleadingly, but she shook her head once, hands now clasped tightly in front of her. In his arms, Loki’s chest rose and fell: he lived, but his eyes had glazed over – an insipid blue - and Thor thought at once of Clint Barton and Erik Selvig, enslaved by the Tesseract, through Loki. That his Father could and had not hesitated to enthrall another person in the same way put rage in Thor’s heart, and he looked to the throne to beseech Odin to stop. Odin was not looking at him, however, but instead at an image that had risen in icy light from the Tesseract and Thor’s words caught in his throat as his brother materialized in the air before them.

Loki was kneeling, his head bowed, his face shadowed. When he looked up, his eyes were blood red. The image shifted and a ploughed field rolled into view. As Thor gazed, he realized with a sick churn of his stomach that what he had seen as heaps of upturned earth were in reality bodies strewn in every direction, and, in the middle of the carnage – Loki, on his hands and knees. The Loki in the Tesseract pushed himself up, rocking back on his heels, eyes wide and cast one horrified gaze around him before promptly throwing up.

The Loki in Thor’s arms convulsed and began to moan. Thor looked to him, shook him gently, cursing his powerless hands that could not cast the blue light from his brother’s eyes.

The images projected by the cube morphed into being and evaporated like smoke: Loki kneeling before an unknown figure, now giving commands, here lying face down in the dirt, blood dripping from his head and his teeth as he grinned. The courtmasters watched without flinching. They did not draw back as Frigga had, or tremble as Thor did. Now the scepter was in Loki’s hand, and in the other, his helmet, blood stained. Around him, Chitauri, chanting an eerie clicking noise as he looked around him, face a mask of stone. Thor drew a halting breath. This was wrong – all wrong –

In his grasp, Loki twisted and turned, groaning and pleading.

“Please… I swear it to you… I will prove it to you...Please!”

His supplications drew the attention of several of the courtmasters who watched him with mild alarm. Tyr gazed dispassionately, as unmoved as the King appeared to be.

Thor shook his brother. “Loki,” he said firmly, “You’re alright. Can you hear me? Loki?”

But Loki remained oblivious to his true surroundings, lost in the dark memory, and then, without warning, began to scream.

It startled Thor and he lost balance, dropping heavily to the floor as Loki fought to get away from him.

“Loki!” cried Thor and then turned to Odin, “All-Father, have you no mercy?!”

But Odin paid him no heed, continued to scrutinize the images floating before him, seemingly unmoved, until the next memory became clear in the icy blue light.

Loki was bound, wearing nothing but torn trousers, arms pulled high against a filthy wall. He looked up in despair as someone approached.

The marks on his chest spoke of torture and Thor blanched. He could not bring himself to look at his Mother. 

A heavy shadow stretched over Loki in the memory, and he began to cry in earnest.

“Please,” he sobbed. “I offer you all of me – everything - “

“You possess nothing of value in and of yourself. But your connections, now those I am jealous for.”

“I have no connections,” Loki insisted. “I am nothing – I have no one - “

“Now that is not true. Give me the Golden Son of Asgard, and I will spare you your training.”

Thor’s breath caught in his throat, horror and guilt roiling in his stomach.

Loki shook his head, panting. “I have no way back… I am cut off...I swear it...”

“You will never be cut off from your brother. Call to him.”

Loki’s face crumpled. “He’s not my brother.”

“Call to him!”

“He will not come for me!”

The enormous hand raised the whip.

“You will call for him before this night is up.”

At the foot of the dais, Loki screamed. Thor did the only reasonable thing he could think of: sent Mjolnir hurtling at the Tesseract. It connected with the stand and sent it toppling to the floor. The light piercing Loki’s chest shot backwards, and Loki came to, chest heaving, scrabbling away from Thor, wild eyed.

“Loki,” said Thor urgently, “It’s me, it’s Thor - “ He reached for him.

Loki raised a shaking hand. “D-don’t - “ And he doubled over and vomited.

Thor turned eyes dark with fury on Odin, “All-Father, this is dishonorable - “

But Loki’s hand closed round Thor’s forearm and he raised his head to meet Thor’s eyes. “It’s alright.”

He struggled to his feet. Thor got an arm under him and offered his strength. Loki did what he could: leaned against his brother, trembling, pale as a ghost, but he faced the All-Father nonetheless and slowly lifted his chin.

Odin watched him, a black look on his face, and Thor was so angry he did not stop to think what it belied.

“Father,” he said through gritted teeth, “Be done with this farce of an interrogation.”

“Hush, Thor,” said Loki sharply, though his voice shook.

Odin descended the dais, coming to stand directly in front of his son. Loki took an instinctive step back, squaring his shoulders to make up for the show of weakness, and Thor tightened his grip on Loki’s arm. Now that Odin stood so close, Thor noticed for the first time the redness round his eye. He spoke softly.

“Who was your captor, Loki?”

Loki shook his head and said nothing.

“I command you to tell me,” Odin said, though his tone was gentle. “Or I will discover the truth for myself.”

Tears filled Loki’s eyes and he said in a breathless voice: “Do what you will. I have suffered at crueler hands than even yours, Odin All-Father.”

Odin blinked, and Thor fought the urge to place himself directly between them. Odin looked at Loki for a long time, and then nodded once, saying to Thor without looking at him, “See him to his cell.”


	19. Incentive

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And Loki had watched him go, anxiety pooling in his stomach as he realized that if he had given any incentive to Thor to find out the truth about Thanos, that had been it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fates above and furies beneath. I have been gone a long time.  
I am so sorry!  
Thank you to everyone for all the amazing comments, and for reading this story when you know its a WIP, and just sticking with me.  
For all of you who are still here, I'm back! And I will finish this story!  
This chapter is kind of short, and a bit angsty, and it may take me a few chapters to really get back into the swing of things, but I hope you like it anyway!

Loki left the throne room with as much dignity as he could muster, but inside he felt frantic, and raw. Suddenly, madly, he wished for Eitr Hol: for the dark, to be buried, completely closed off from a world bent on his dissection. His _vivisection._

Thor was not speaking. Loki would have preferred an angry outburst. Perhaps this _was_ anger, though. There was a rare level of rage his brother had on occasion ascended to that rendered him completely silent. He had razed a village with a single lightning bolt once when aggravated to this extent, and in the past, perhaps even a week ago, Loki would have been excited by the chaos a temper tantrum of that magnitude would cause under the circumstances. But now he felt only dread, and guilt. If there had been any question over Loki’s sentence, there would be no longer. His crimes against Midgard and the throne were one thing, but if all the council had seen what Odin had seen, the trial would surely be foregone, and the sentence pronounced.

Because to yield to an enemy – to break under torture – was not the warrior’s way. To betray your kin and country besides, even worse. Odin’s black expression had told Loki all he needed to know. That he had plotted even in his capitulation was irrelevant. That he had put his age-old moniker ‘Liesmith’ to all the use it was worth when he yielded to Thanos and promised to bring him all he asked should not have been surprising, but how could the High Court trust a liar to speak the truth? It was irrelevant that he had not killed Thor in the end, and that he would have died before handing him to Thanos. It could not be explained in any coherent language that Loki had done what he had done precisely to _protect_ Thor, to keep Thanos _from_ him, from _all_ of them – it didn’t matter – _none_ of it mattered, because in trying to keep the Mad Titan from the people he loved the most, he had sacrificed mortal lives without thought, even without regret, at the time…

No. There were no artful words known to Loki Silvertongue that could untangle the truths from the net of chaos he had wrought. As they crossed the threshold to his cell, Thor turned and unclasped the manacles from Loki's wrists. He pulled from Thor’s grasp and crossed the room, desperate for distance. He resolutely kept his gaze from meeting Thor’s, not wanting to discuss the preceding events, wishing he would leave.

He did not.

He did not shout or rage, as Loki would have expected – would have _preferred_, because that was a Thor that Loki knew how to deal with. Instead he slowly crossed the room and came to stand only inches away, his eyes fixed on Loki’s chest. He pulled at the ties on Loki’s tunic.

“Thor - ” Loki pleaded, batting his hands away. But Thor ignored him, shook him off, and practically tore his tunic open, breath catching raggedly when he found the scars he had seen in Loki’s memories. Dark, jagged lines. Like he had been gutted and sewn up again. Thor’s hand shook where he traced them and when Loki dared meet his eyes, they were glistening.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” His voice was raw.

And it dawned on Loki that the emotion writ in Thor's golden features was not anger, but grief.

“What difference would it have made?” Loki asked thickly.

“It makes all the difference!” cried Thor. “You were forced - “

“I was not forced,” said Loki for what felt like the millionth time. “I did everything I did willingly.”

“But they hurt you...” Thor looked dangerously close to tears, and Loki didn’t think he could cope with his not-brother dissolving into sobs in front of him. Not over this. He tried to dislodge Thor’s hand from his chest.

“I survived,” he told him harshly, trying to string up his tunic again.

“Barely - “

“I stand before you, do I not? I was well enough to engineer an invasion on Midgard, to attempt to _take your life_ \- ”

“I don’t believe that - ”

Of_ course_ he didn't. Norns curse Thor for his everlasting faith.

“Don’t be daft, Thor, you were there!” hissed Loki, and then, wearily: “Let’s be done with this. I do not wish to revisit my crimes any more than you do.”

Thor let him go, mouth working. After a moment, he said, “What happened – in the end – when they - “ and he struggled with the words - “at the end of the night?”

“There were many nights, Thor,” sighed Loki. “I don’t remember when they began and when they ended.”

“He told you to call to me. Did you?”

Loki met Thor’s gaze, heart stuttering. He wanted Thor gone. He wanted to draw darkness around him like a giant cloak and never emerge from it.

“Loki, tell me the truth,” pressed Thor wretchedly, “Did you call to me?”

“I don’t remember,” said Loki feeling suddenly anxious. “What does it matter?”

“It matters!” And Thor was gripping him round the shoulders, shaking him slightly, searching his face, “Did you call out to me?”

Loki swallowed. “No.”

Thor’s face crumpled, and Loki wished to gouge his own eyes out, if only to never be confronted with that expression again, knowing that he was the entire reason it was there.

“You’re lying,” Thor said.

And Loki couldn’t help it. He was so tired. So empty. “Yes,” he admitted. “I am.”

~*~

Thor had cried. Loki had pleaded with him to stop.

“It’s done with, Thor! There’s no point crying over it!”

“What would Mother and Father think? Going to tears like this?”

“Thor, for heaven’s sake!”

_“Thor please… what can I do to stop this infernal weeping?!” _

And then, finally, to his lasting relief, Thor had wiped his tears uselessly with his sleeve and said, “Tell me who your captor was.”

Loki had closed his eyes. “You know I can’t.”

“Why?! Why will you not tell me? You have only _ever_ had to ask and I would have sought him out - ”

Loki had smiled then and lifted his knuckles to brush tears from Thor’s face. “That’s why I can’t tell you,” he said softly.

Thor had gazed at him, reached up to cover Loki’s hand with his own. Finally, something Loki couldn't place had lit up in his not-brother's eyes, and he had kissed Loki’s forehead and strode from the cell.

Loki had watched him go, anxiety pooling in his stomach as he realized that if he had given any incentive to Thor to find out the truth about Thanos, that had been it.


	20. An Unexpected Mercy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I too wish to learn more of Loki’s allies,” said Aldror placidly.   
“You believe that he suffered torment at the hands of his allies?” Odin asked abruptly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A quicker update than I am known for! Enjoy!

Thor went straight from the dungeons to Odin’s study. Several of the Courtmasters were present when he pushed the doors open. The All-father was not. The discussion they had been having in aggravated tones died at the sight of Thor.

“Where is my Father?”

“He meets with the Queen. We are to convene presently,” said Habar at once. “Would you join us, Your Highness?”

“I would,” answered Thor and shut the doors behind him. He cast his gaze over the masters. Loki would have guessed their thoughts with a glance. To him, they were unreadable, and so he resigned to obtain information the way he always had: by asking.

“What thoughts have you on what you witnessed in the throne room?”

There were a series of coughs, grunts and a great deal of shuffling.

Aldror spoke first.

“Though it pains me to say it to you, Prince Thor, it is clear that Loki conspired with an enemy to entrap you - “

“Are you quite well, Aldror?” snapped Habar suddenly, “Were you not present in the throne room an hour ago?”

Aldror glared at Habar. “I am at this very moment articulating my observations, Habar - “

“Then your talents do not lie in observation,” scoffed Habar. “I saw no conspiring. Only blood, and whips.”

“Your soft mind addles your judgment. You were ever fond of the younger Prince and his tricks. I would caution you against bias, Habar.”

“It is you who holds the bias, Aldror!” retorted Habar.

Aldror looked as though he would answer, but the study doors swung open and the King entered, followed swiftly by Tyr, and Heimdall.

“I see you have begun in my absence,” Odin said flatly, and he appeared to Thor to be weary beyond measure.

“Prince Thor sought our views on the shades of the Tesseract,” offered Bjald meekly.

“I would hear them also,” Odin said, sitting at the head of the table without ceremony. Tyr took a place next to him, and Heimdall just behind.

Habar spoke immediately. “It is plain that Prince Loki suffered in the Void. I should like to know by whose hand he suffered, and to what end they sought to use him.”

“I too wish to learn more of Loki’s allies,” said Aldror placidly.

Habar flashed him a hard look. Had Thor been gripping his arm rest he would have splintered it.

“You believe that he suffered torment at the hands of his _allies_?” Odin asked abruptly.

Aldror opened his mouth, looking uncertain. “I did not say his choice of allies was _wise _\- “

“They hardly seemed allies at all,” Habar argued, “We have not borne witness to cleverly organized council meetings and deal negotiations, All-father. We have borne witness to torture. This is not the function of an ally, but an enemy!”

“How are we to know that these projections were not conjured for our benefit by the Prince himself?” queried Bjald with a cocked eyebrow.

“Even you cannot be so dull as to deny the power of the Tesseract, Bjald,” spat Habar, and Thor wanted to grant him a Knighting.

“I am in agreement with Habar,” Thor said tersely. “My brother has endured torture and torment. His actions were born of this alone. I would see him released from prison.”

“He cannot simply be released from prison, Prince Thor!” interjected Tyr. “I concede that he was likely coerced, but the betrayal of the Royal Family is a grave crime.”

“His actions on Midgard appear to be a method of luring you to capture,” Aldror cut in quickly, turning to the room at large, “He would have betrayed the Crown Prince of Asgard to an enemy only to escape death. This is the basest cowardice!”

“Loki is no coward!” growled Thor. “Take care how you speak of a Prince of Asgard!”

“Prince Loki did not agree to hand his brother over,” said Habar matter of factly. “I concede that he attacked Thor on earth – without much success – but do we know that he in fact made a deal with this enemy? Did he really betray the Royal Family?”

“You saw the Chitauri army at his command!” cried Bjald. “How he tried to kill His Highness Prince Thor with a blade to the stomach! The conclusion is plain!”

“It is plain that he was allied with the Chitauri, and also that he made attempts on Thor’s life,” Odin said at last. “But what is not plain is whether he made a deal with our enemies willingly. You witnessed the Tesseract’s projections with me today. We cannot deny that whoever Loki became entangled with in the Void sought to subjugate him. And succeeded, if the deplorable suffering he endured is anything to go by. We cannot proceed with a trial until the truth of this matter is known. I move to release Loki from prison, that he might heal and the investigation conclude.”

Jaws around the room dropped.

Thor sagged in his chair, as though the weight of all the Nine were removed from his shoulders.

“My Lord!”

“All-father, is this wise - “

“Your Majesty, you cannot possibly - “

Odin raised his hands.

“I have already agreed that I will submit to an inquiry into the Royal Family, for I am just as concerned with the truth as all of you are, Courtmasters. If you believe that you will gain the truth and conclude this investigation whilst Loki remains imprisoned, then by all means cast your vote. But I know my son, and his mind needs healing before he will speak plainly on these matters. Furthermore, if there is a being in the Nine who was able to break a Prince of Asgard, I put to you that it serves our best interests to find out all we can about them, and with haste. You will not be able to do this if the young Prince festers in his nightmares in the dungeons.”

Thor was speechless.

Utterly and completely speechless.

He looked around the table at the Courtmasters, and if desperation was written in all the lines of his face, he did not care one bit.

“There would need to be restrictions,” said Habar thoughtfully, but his expression was hopeful.

“I would hear your suggestions then,” said Odin.

“He should have a guard,” insisted Bjald and Tyr at once.

“Perhaps he could be merely granted some hours outside his cell,” said Aldror with ill concealed displeasure. But he had already lost the argument, because what Thor said next won Heimdall over, and when Heimdall nodded his agreement, most Courtmasters conceded to his judgment.

“_Eignar_,” he said, breathless with hope, “Bind me to him, Father. He will not be able to leave Asgard without me, or perform magic without my knowing its nature. The consequences of his actions will be upon me also.”

Odin raised his eyebrows and looked thoughtfully at his son.

“You named me his Keep, did you not?” Thor pleaded. “I shall be my brother’s keeper, as I should have been all these years.”

“I support this proposal,” came Heimdall’s voice from behind the King. “It will be comfort enough to the Palace residents that Loki is under Thor’s…guidance.”

“Courtmasters?” enquired Odin.

“Is it not prudent to place a restraint on his magic until such a time as he proves he can be trusted?” suggested Bjald, and the emphasis on _trust_ was venomous. Thor made to argue. Odin raised a hand.

“This can be done under the supervision of Eir.”

“Then I am agreed,” Bjald said. “Master Aldror?”

Aldror pressed steepled finger tips to his lips. After a moment he said, “I would suggest the Prince not be granted leave of the Palace grounds. If but for his own safety,” he added hastily when Thor threw him a furious look.

“I am agreed,” Odin said. “Are we concluded?”

"We are," said the Courtmasters.


	21. Harkum & Breir

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Loki stared at Thor. “Eignar?”  
“Yes. You know what - “  
“Yes, of course I know what it is. Do you?”  
Thor shifted. “Yes. It’s the binding spell Harkum used to save his brother Breir, I remember it from our history recitations.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I seem to be on a roll. Take this as me making up for my long absence! <3

When at last the Courtmasters and Tyr had departed, and only his Father and Heimdall remained in the study, Thor threw himself from his chair, dropping to his knee next to Odin and grasping his arm.

“Thank you, Father,” he said with so much emotion that the All-father looked taken aback.

He gripped Thor’s shoulder. “You’ve no easy task ahead of you, my boy. Are you sure you understand the gravity of _Eignar?_”

“I understand, Father. This is what I wished from the start. To give Loki a fighting chance.”

Odin nodded. “I will ask your Mother to perform the spell. I am weary.”

“But you will witness it?” pressed Thor. “Loki must know that you have had a part in this.”

Odin smiled grimly. “Are you trying to build bridges for me, my son?”

Thor dropped his gaze momentarily. “For all of us,” he said quietly.

Odin squeezed his shoulder and turned to Heimdall. “Issue a decree. New information has come to light in the investigation into Prince Loki’s actions on Midgard. Loki is to be held in the Palace under _Eignar_ to the Crown Prince, and will remain so till the conclusion of the investigation. He poses no threat to the public.”

“Your Majesty,” said Heimdall, and Thor thought he saw the Gatekeeper smile softly at him as he exited.

“Allow Heimdall the day to send out the decree. The residents of the Palace may wish to witness the binding.”

“How soon can we do it?” Thor asked.

“I can be prepared by morning,” came Frigga’s voice from behind him, and Thor turned with surprise to see her standing in the doorway, hope shining in her eyes.

“Mother,” he said, unable to keep the grin off his face.

She came to embrace him, as though by his efforts alone he had won this mercy for Loki. She kissed his cheek. “Bring the news to your brother, and if he is amenable, I will visit him later.”

Thor kissed her cheek and took his leave. Hope and joy such that he had not felt in years burst in his breast and he whirled on his heel, causing a clap of thunder to resound throughout the Palace as he transported himself to Loki’s cell.

~*~

Loki almost toppled from his cot when a loud bang sounded right outside his cell. He scrabbled back, forgetting his whip wounds, which stung painfully as he hit the wall.

“Loki!”

Thor sounded joyous. Loki watched him apprehensively. Thor had been sobbing not two hours previously. He had expected his next visitor to be his Mother, and for there to be more crying.

Thor stepped through the barrier, practically bouncing with energy, but stopped short on seeing Loki cringing against the wall.

“Loki? Are you alright?”

“Fine,” said Loki, slightly breathless. “When did you learn to do that?”

Comprehension dawned. “Ages ago. I didn’t mean to scare you,” he said quickly, coming to sit on the edge of the bed. He looked as though he wanted to reach out, but thought better of it.

Loki relaxed a little and collected himself. “Will Mother not see me?” The words were out of his mouth before he could stop them and he flushed at the compassion in Thor’s eyes.

“She said to tell you she would visit later... if you were amenable.”

Loki nodded.

“Are you?” Thor nudged him with a smile.

Loki suppressed a sigh. “Yes.” He watched Thor’s face. “You’re in a decidedly better mood than earlier.”

Thor beamed. “You’re being released!”

Loki’s jaw dropped. “_What?_”

Thor grinned from ear to ear. “Tomorrow morning. Father has sent out a decree.”

Loki could not speak. Or breathe. He swallowed convulsively.

“Loki? Is this not good news, brother?”

Loki didn’t know. He had expected punishment. A quick sentencing. Death, even.

Not release. For one wild moment he thought he may be banished, and that – _that – _he could not endure.

“This doesn’t make any sense,” he said breathlessly.

“What did you expect, after what was revealed by the Tesseract?” Thor asked, frowning.

Loki met his gaze and shook his head, unable to formulate words for a moment.

“I… I thought...” he said eventually, and then, unable to finish that train of thought, furrowed his brow and said, “They cannot simply release me, Thor! I am guilty of treason and murder and - “

“You were a Prince, kidnapped and _coerced_ \- “

“I was _not _coerced!” pleaded Loki, and he felt hysterical. “Don’t you understand - “

“Loki,” said Thor firmly, gripping his shoulders, “Listen to me. There is no argument among the High Court that you endured great suffering in the Void. They have agreed that they would learn the truth of what passed there, before passing sentence on you. I have asked to be bound to you through _Eignar_, to be your Keep in all things, that you may be free to reside in the Palace as you used to, and heal from what has been done to you.”

Loki stared at Thor. “_Eignar?_”

“Yes. You know what - “

“Yes, of course I know what it is. _D__o you?_”

Thor shifted. “Yes. It’s the binding spell Harkum used to save his brother Breir, I remember it from our history recitations.”

Loki laughed, incredulous. “You realize that those were completely different circumstances?”

Thor frowned. “Breir was poisoned by the Witch, Gorjei, and went on a murderous rampage. To stop the King’s Guard from killing him, Harkum bound himself to Breir - “

“Because Breir’s death would mean _Harkum’s death_,” hissed Loki. “And Breir was _acquitted _by the High Court on account of being _enthralled _by Gorjei!”

“Exactly,” said Thor, as though it was the most simple thing in the world.

Loki made an irritated noise. “Thor, _Eignar_ is not some sort of promise with simple caveats. It’s a literal _joining of life forces! _Harkum had the privilege of _knowing _Breir was innocent – it was a calculated risk - ” He shook his head at his brother as though he had lost his mind. Thor seemed unperturbed.

“Thor,” he pleaded, “If the High Court find me guilty, you will die when they execute me.”

“_If, _brother, _if_ they execute you. Which they won’t. You will be acquitted as Breir was! I will make sure of it.” And he grinned, curse him, he grinned at Loki like all their problems had been solved.

Loki, aghast, said nothing, but allowed himself to be drawn into an affectionate hug, and thought he heard Thor whisper as he drew back, “I love you, brother.”


	22. With Luck

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Loki – sshh – listen to me, brother. You are not entitled to all of the guilt you have laid claim to. Perhaps you are the one whose judgment is clouded.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can't wait to get Loki out and about and involved in Palace affairs again! So much potential for conflict!  
Bear with me as I get there.  
For now: the lead up to the binding ceremony!

Loki sat, shell-shocked, on the edge of his bed for an indeterminate amount of time.

At last, the Queen stepped lightly into his cell and he looked up, finding it harder to meet her gaze than it had been on their first reunion. The moments he had spent crying, dripping blood, and pleading for mercy were not ones he had ever wished to share with his mother. He felt ashamed and guilty and furious with Odin for stripping his mind bare for the court without warning or permission. He rose and crossed the room to put distance between them, folding his arms tightly across his chest, as though to further hide from curious eyes the scars that had made his brother cry. Before he could stop it, his emotions rushed out in a slew of words that sounded harsher than he meant them to.

“If you have come to gawk at me in horror as Thor did some hours ago, my Queen, I urge you to be quick about it. I cannot bear your pity nor any comfort you would offer me. I wished never to speak of these things with any of you.”

Frigga clasped her hands in front of her as she moved over to the table and chairs and sat. Her face was the picture of serenity, but Loki did not miss the tightness round her eyes. He wanted badly to comfort her, but he could not bring himself to cross the room. Shame filled his chest and he turned away a little, trying to master himself.

“What would you have of me, Loki?” she asked.

Loki studied a spot on the floor for a moment, feeling trapped. There were too many feelings drumming about in his chest for him to think properly. He took a breath.

“I would have an explanation,” he said, at last. “Who is the engineer behind this absurd plan to release me?”

“Do you not wish to be released?” Frigga asked calmly.

Loki laughed a little hysterically. “It hardly matters what I _wish.”_

“I understand that it may carry little weight, but what you wish matters to me.”

“What use is that when you do not sit the throne!” cried Loki, and regretted it immediately. He put a hand to his face and sighed.

“Forgive me.”

He crossed the room and sat. “What I meant to say was, my wishes only matter in so far as they agree with the most powerful person in the room. Or the - “ and he waved a hand - “vicinity. And that, at present, is neither of us.”

Frigga let out a breath. “My darling. I am sorry you have had so little say over your own fate for all this time.”

Loki swallowed. “Why am I being released?”

“We would know the truth of what passed in the Void before passing sentence.”

“You have had the truth,” snapped Loki. “My soul has been spread like the pages of a book before you. Why will you not conclude this ordeal and _sentence me?”_

Frigga took his hand, eyes soft. “Why are you so determined to be sentenced?”

Loki would not meet her gaze. “Are corpses not disposed of with haste, before they foul the land on which they lie?”

“You speak as if you were dead already.”

“It is only a matter of time, Amma.”

Frigga stood then and pulled his head against her. “You are our son, Loki. And we wish for you to live, dear one. Perhaps in time you will wish that, too.”

~*~

The decree that Prince Loki was to be released under _Eignar_ to the Crown Prince was heralded throughout the Palace, the courts and surrounds, by sunset, and by the following morning, a sizable crowd had gathered in the throne room to witness the binding. Palace residents, courtiers, townsfolk and villagers all chattered conspiratorially among themselves as they waited for the Royal Family and the Courtmasters to arrive.

“Looks as though Odin’s got himself into it,” said an old fisherman bemusedly. “Right fix he’s in.”

His wife hushed him just as the man sitting next to them agreed. “Wouldn’t look right to execute a member of the Royal Family, would it? They’ve got to spin it right.”

“Do you think they’ll tell us about this _new information?_”

“Do you think he really might be innocent?”

“They say the Traitor-Prince tried to kill Prince Thor on Midgard!”

“They might as well hand him Prince Thor’s head on a silver plate!”

“Don’t you know anything about _Eignar_? Neither participant can harm the other - “

“I don’t trust this one bit.”

“If Prince Thor thinks he’s innocent enough to bind to, that’s enough for me.”

“Prince Loki was always kind to the beekeepers in Borsted.”

And so the whispering went.

However dubious the public may have been about their arrangement, Thor had never felt more certain of something in his life.

He collected Loki from his cell. Not even the manacles could dampen his mood. _(“This is the last time you’ll be chained, brother, I swear it!”)_

They left the dungeons and came to wait in the antechamber of the throne room. Loki looked around distractedly. Thor watched him as he worried the sleeve of his tunic.

“Loki, are you alright?”

He glanced at Thor. “I don’t think this is a good idea.”

Thor’s face fell. “Loki, we’ve spoken of this.”

“No, _you’ve _spoken of this. If you had any interest in listening to me, you’d abandon this fool’s errand.”

“Nonsense,” said Thor after a moment, not wishing to argue this out minutes before they stepped into the throne room.

“You have placed a wager on a whim. Set gold against ashes - “

“I’ve done no such thing.”

“You have no idea whether I’m innocent or not!” Loki snapped. “You’ve barely considered the consequences – _as usual_ – barging ahead with no _thought_ \- “

“Loki,” said Thor coming to stand in front of him.

“What are you going to do when you find out that I invaded Midgard and killed all those mortals _completely of my own volition?”_

“Loki - “

“What will you do when they behead me and you find your life-force_ soaking away with my blood - “_

“Loki!_ Listen to me - “_

But there was a wild look in Loki’s eyes and he would not listen.

“If you were any kind of warrior you’d have the courage to acknowledge my wrongs and _convict me!”_

Thor pulled Loki to him. Pressed their foreheads together and cupped his face. Loki grabbed at his wrists and tried to push him away.

“Your emotions are clouding your judgment - “

“Loki – _sshh – _listen to me, brother. You are not entitled to all of the guilt you have laid claim to. Perhaps you are the one whose judgment is clouded.”

Loki breathed a moment, his chest rising and falling heavily. “Why would you do this for me?” He gasped.

Thor smiled sadly. “Believe it or not, I wish to see you well.”

Loki pulled away, mouth twisting. “Forgive me, but your actions over the past thousand years had me believing otherwise.”

Thor took a deep breath. “I am trying to do what’s best for you.”

“By forcing me into a _lifebond _that I have _repeatedly _told you I want no part of?” Loki cried shrilly. “You are simply perpetuating a thousand years of dictatorship and dismissal. I am, as ever, your thrall. Subjugated once more! Destined to spend my days _proving_ myself to you! And now you would ask for my _trust,_ after abandoning me to the Void and all that I suffered there!”

Thor stared at him, chest hurting, and felt for a moment that it was quite possible nothing he ever did would make up for how he had failed his little brother. Loki met his gaze, breaths uneven and mouth pressed into a grimace. His green eyes were rimmed red. Thor did the only thing he could think of: he knelt, and took his brother’s hand in both of his.

“I do not ask for your trust, Loki,” he said softly, “Only the chance to earn it, and a reason to never be separated from you again. But I do not wish to be another captor. I will not force you into something you wish to have no part of. I will offer you my bond today, and you are free to refuse me. But should you accept, know that it is I who will spend his days proving himself.”

Loki stared down at his brother, lips parted in wordless surprise.

Footsteps sounded outside and Thor rose, giving his hand a final squeeze before letting go.

The doors to the antechamber banged open and Tyr strode in looking nettled.

“His Majesty the King and her Grace the Queen sit the throne. They are ready for you now.”

They followed Tyr, and took up their positions before the doors to the throne room. Once again, Thor was thrown back in time.

This was to be their third formal ceremony in the throne room, and, with luck, it would set to rights the dark chain of events that had begun with the first.


	23. The Terms

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Loki waited a breath before speaking, his voice quieter, but no less clear. “I am Loki. I rose and fell the second son of Odin, I was born, and remain, a son of Laufey: a Prince of Asgard and the rightful King of Jotunheim.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> there'll be another chapter up tonight to finish up this section!   
One step closer to Palace shenanigans! Woo!

The doors to the throne room were hauled open, and Loki matched Thor step for step as they crossed the floor, a habit formed over a thousand years of being at each other's side. Thor’s shoulders were squared, his jaw set. His calm demeanor gave little comfort to Loki. He cast his gaze hastily around the room: a far larger audience than he had contended with at his last appearance here. His stomach turned over as they reached the dais, but he raised his chin and held his gaze aloft. The Tesseract had been removed from its pedestal, he noted, and although Loki had not expected it to be used in such a ceremony, it was a comfort that he need not be near it. After a brief time, they bowed, and the All-father rose.

In accordance with ceremonial tradition, he asked:

“How do you approach the throne?”

Thor spoke first. “It is I, Thor, Crown Prince of Asgard, the first son of Odin.”

Loki waited a breath before speaking, his voice quieter, but no less clear. “I am Loki. I rose and fell the second son of Odin. I was born, and remain, a son of Laufey: a Prince of Asgard and the rightful King of Jotunheim.” He raised his chin, looking directly at Odin as he spoke. Odin’s face betrayed nothing as he held Loki’s gaze. An incredulous murmur rippled among the spectators at the mention of Jotunheim, and Loki smiled faintly in satisfaction.

“The High Court have been tasked with the investigation into Loki’s crimes upon Midgard,” Odin declared, “Court Superior Aldror, let us hear your observations.”

Aldror rose from his seat and bowed.

“In accordance with the laws set forth by Bor, in the third reign, that dictate that a man coerced to evil shall not be sentenced until he has proven that by his own device he is loyal to Asgard and its steadfast principles, the High Court has determined that, in part due to the evidence revealed by the power of the Tesseract, and in part due to the effects of this on the mind of his lordship, Prince Loki, the aforementioned should be granted release from prison, on condition of magical restraint, and the binding through _Eignar_ to His Highness Prince Thor, until such a time as he has proven his loyalty to Asgard, and the mysteries surrounding his captivity and subsequent invasion of Midgard are unraveled.”

Loki listened passively to Aldror’s address, his eyes trained straight ahead of him. At the mention of magical restraint, he glanced at his mother, to find her eyes on him, and quickly looked away.

Of course. They could not possibly let him free with all his power. Odin had not been so kind to Thor when he had banished him to Midgard. Still, the idea of being stripped of his magic indefinitely made his chest heavy. He already felt drained, and wrung out, from being in the warded cell.

Aldror had resumed his seat, and Odin spoke again.

“Loki, you have heard the terms of your release from the Superior of the High Court. You will now hear the terms of the _Eignar_ from Prince Thor, with whom you will enter into this binding.”

He nodded once at Thor, and Thor turned to him. He did not smile, but his eyes were soft, and Loki’s heart clattered about in his chest as his brother spoke.

“Loki, my brother in heart, if not in birth, I offer to bind myself to you as surety to the throne and to Asgard, to be your outrider and your rear guard, that you may walk free within the Palace grounds, and once more know peace. In return, I ask only this: that you would grant me one hour each day, in the place we used to meet when we were boys. This is my offer to you.” And with that, he held out his hands, crossing one arm over the other, his palms upturned. Loki lifted his gaze from Thor’s open hands to search his face, heart hammering. His mind raced. Part of him wanted to turn and flee – the part that was angry, and hurt, and couldn’t trust Thor ever again. And another part of him wanted nothing more than to grab hold, like he would a lifeline, and say “_Yes._” He had turned this over in his mind a thousand times since the previous day, and still no answer came to him. How could he allow Thor to be tied to his fate? Their destinies had ever been at odds. Visions of Thor on the edge of the Bifrost clouded his mind. Thor hauling him from the quin jet. Staring down at him in fury amidst the debris of Tony Stark’s flooring.

_The Prince must slay the Beast._

Loki swallowed convulsively, felt himself shaking, fought off tears he could not possibly shed for an audience like this.

Thor’s bright blue eyes searched his face. Whatever he found there made his chin drop minutely, and his shoulders hunch. He lifted his palms a little, begging with all but his voice for Loki to take his hands.

_The Prince must slay the Beast._

“Brother, will you accept?” he asked, and for all his voice was steady, his eyes were moist.

Loki did not want to be slain.

He took Thor’s hands.

“I will.”


	24. Eignar

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After a moment, he felt a tug in his chest, as though an anchor had been affixed outside of his body and he was being pulled to it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I realize I kind of jumped perspectives halfway through this, but I just wanted some insight into both their experiences, so I hope the jump is not too jarring!

Thor’s chest flooded with relief as Loki took his hands. He drew in a deep breath, finally able to fill his lungs. The Queen descended and came to stand between them. She gave them each a reassuring smile. She removed the manacles from Loki’s wrists with care, and dismissed them with a wave.

“The _Eignar_ is a bond of your life force,” she said, drawing from a small pouch two necklaces. Thor recognized them immediately and glanced at Loki to see if he did too, but his face was an unreadable mask but for the tightness round his eyes.

“Under the power of the _Eignar_, you will not be able to lift the sword against one another. You will not be able to travel great distances apart, nor will you be distant in heart. Your word to one another will be a bond, your well-being the concern of the other. Unlike a great many similar spells, this binding cannot be broken by your choice or any mutual agreement. It will simply fall away when the faith you have kept with one another becomes the natural order of your lives. Thor, Loki – do you understand the conditions and constraints of this binding?”

“I do,” said Thor firmly.

Loki’s gaze flicked up to meet his before he answered. “Yes.”

Frigga smiled. She looped the necklaces around their joined hands, and pronounced the words of the spell.

“_Hleifara sejer hyil eignarej.”_

As she said the words, the necklaces glowed with gold light which rippled along the woven leather strands and around their linked hands. Thor’s breath stuttered. An odd, cold feeling traveled up his arms and filled his chest. It made him feel a bit hollow and lightheaded. After a moment, he felt a tug in his chest, as though an anchor had been affixed outside of his body and he was being pulled to it. Loki’s hands tightened round his suddenly, and the light between them grew until it was so bright Thor had to close his eyes. The room became soundless for a moment, and then it was over. The light faded. He looked at Loki who was gazing at him, lips parted slightly, a look of surprise on his face.

“It is done,” said Frigga, unwinding the necklaces from their hands. Thor let go of Loki’s hands with some reluctance, but quickly accepted one of the necklaces from his mother.

“Keep these, as a reminder of what you have agreed here, today.”

Thor turned the pendant over in his hands. It was made from woven leather, the pendant in the form of a snake, carved from jade stone. He ran a finger lightly over it, remembering, and feeling a little lost.

“Thor?”

He looked up at Loki who had turned to face the throne, and quickly followed suit.

“Loki,” announced the All-father, “Having accepted the terms of the _Eignar_, you have but to submit to the binding of your seidr. If you are willing to submit, I will call upon the Chief Healer to perform the spell.”

Loki swallowed. There would be no leaving this throne room without submitting to the binding of his seidr. He nodded once.

Eir walked with purposeful steps up to the dais, bearing a blue vial. She came to stand before him and held it out to him.

“Drink this,” she instructed. “It will not be pleasant.” Succinct though she was in her direction, her eyes betrayed the sympathy she felt. Thor came to stand at Loki’s side, brushing his shoulder to communicate that he was there. Loki accepted the vial with shaking hands, pulled the stopper from it, and hesitated only a moment before knocking it back.

The urge to vomit was instant. His stomach roiled. His chest constricted and he gasped for breath. It felt nothing like stepping in and out of the warded cell. This was chaining him up from the_ inside out. _He dropped the vial, hands flying to his chest. It felt as though cords of ice and steel were tightening round him, bruising his lungs, breaking his ribs. Thor’s arms came around him, steadying him, and Loki did not know if the trembling was in Thor’s hands or his shoulders. He sank against him, dragging in rasping breaths that burned his throat.

“It’s – it’s alright,” Thor said breathlessly. “You’ll be alright.”

Slowly, breathing became easier. His chest still felt tight, but the pain was beginning to subside. He felt sweat cold on his brow and wiped at it with his sleeve, leaning heavily against Thor. When he was finally able to collect himself, mustering the strength to stand unaided, Odin gave his final word.

“The _Eignar_ is complete. May you keep faith with one another. And Loki, may your magic be returned to you when you have proven yourself an ally of Asgard.”

Gungnir clanged against the golden floor thrice, and the ceremony was concluded.

Loki walked with as much grace as he could muster until he crossed the threshold into the antechamber, Thor on his heels.

“Am I permitted to move about the Palace unaccompanied?” he asked Thor abruptly.

“Erm - you are to have a guard. I have not yet assigned one. Perhaps for now - “

Loki did not wait to hear the rest. He turned on his heel and fled.


End file.
